


Power Play

by samwise_baggins, Steve-Bucky-Stucky (Chemical30)



Series: Bound and Gagged [1]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, BDSM, Brock Rumlow is good, Consensual Violence, Dom Natasha Romanov, Dom Steve Rogers, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jack Rollins is good, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sub Bucky Barnes, Sub Clint Barton, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-20 06:22:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 44,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8239201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samwise_baggins/pseuds/samwise_baggins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chemical30/pseuds/Steve-Bucky-Stucky
Summary: Steve is a closeted man afraid to make waves. Bucky is open and free, a ray of sunshine in a dreary world. A chance encounter threatens to give Steve all he ever needed or tear down everything he’s ever hoped to achieve.





	1. A Meeting in the Night

Laughing, shaking his head, James Barnes, known as Bucky to his close friends, placed the last can of oil on the designated auto emergency shelf. He wiped the cardboard dust from his hands onto the blue jumpsuit his boss provided any clerk stocking or cleaning. As one of two night shift clerks on any given night, Bucky often volunteered to do the menial work, leaving his co worker to serve any customers who came in for late night coffee, food, or price-jacked emergency items the customer was absolutely convinced couldn’t wait a few more hours for a normal store to provide.

With another laugh, the six foot tall twenty-four year old brunet rose to his feet. He grinned at the college aged daughter of the owner, Wanda, who stood leaning on the service counter flipping through pictures on her phone. Grabbing the three empty boxes, Bucky carried them behind the counter towards the back door but stopped when the auburn-haired girl looked over.

“James, you can cover for ten minutes, yes?” She headed for the back door.

“Take the boxes,” he called, grey-blue eyes dancing, and grinned at her; the younger woman huffed and dragged back to grab the boxes from him. As she gathered the cardboard, Bucky turned to wash his hands at the sink then moved to stand near the register and coffee pot, not worrying about just why Wanda felt she needed to disappear outside in the chilly autumn storm when it wasn’t break time. He didn’t mind covering the counter.

**************

Steve Rogers hunched his shoulders, trying to protect as much of his body, fully dressed in a very expensive black tuxedo, from the pelting rain. There hadn't been a single cloud in the sky when he'd gone off on his walk . . . now the chilly fall winds had picked up, ice cold rain drops stinging his cheeks.

Looking around, Steve wasn't quite sure where he even was; the streets looked vaguely familiar but he couldn't place how or why. He'd left Tony Stark’s gala a few hours ago, having felt completely overwhelmed. At first he had told himself he just needed a breather, some fresh air; but then he simply kept walking. Now, Steve didn't know where he was, and the rain only seemed to be getting heavier and colder. He didn't even have his phone, having accidentally left it in the pocket of his coat that had been checked promptly upon his arrival at the gala.

Finally, the thirty year old breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of a 24-hour convenience store with a beat up sedan in front, the neon light overhead flickering on and off. Steve didn't care about the appearance of the shop, simply that he could get out of the rain and maybe grab a cup of coffee. Maybe the store would have an umbrella so Steve could walk back without getting even more soaked.

Pushing the door to the store open, the bell above the door chiming loudly, Steve sighed in relief as he stepped into the warm, dry building.

Hearing the bell over the front door, Bucky turned and offered his smile to the stranger who walked in. “Hello, just let me know if you need anything,” he called then turned to make sure the coffee was fresh.

Steve looked at the clerk, eyes traveling down the brunet's lithe form. Even in the blue jumpsuit, Steve could tell the other man had a lean, toned body and he felt himself desperately wanting to see if the man's face was attractive as his body. He knew he shouldn't be thinking such thoughts, but he was in an area that none of his friends or co-workers or even the occasional reporter would ever think to find him. No one important would see Steve checking the clerk out . . . a male clerk.

“Uh . . .” Steve called out after clearing his throat, small droplets of water cascading off his nice clothes, dripping onto the floor. “You have coffee, yes?” 

“Decaf or full?” Bucky asked, turning and smiling on the man. His eyes widened slightly and his smile deepened at the sight of the gorgeous blond man with the sad blue eyes. “Need a towel?” he offered; that tux would be destroyed - - “or maybe I can lend you something to change into? I’ve got another jumpsuit in the back?”

Looking down at his undoubtedly ruined tuxedo, Steve chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck, “maybe just a towel? I’ll buy it, of course.” 

Chuckling, Bucky shook his head. “You don’t need to buy it, pal. I’ve got a clean stack in the back room. As long as you don’t run off with it, there shouldn’t be any problem.”

The sound of the other man’s laugh brought a wide smile to Steve’s face. “Well, I wouldn’t wanna be a problem . . . I promise not to run off with the towel,” he held up two fingers, “scout’s honor.” 

Nodding, still chuckling, Bucky slipped a steaming cup of coffee in front of the soggy blond. ”Creamer and sugar are on the table, or you can take it standing . . . sure you don’t wanna change? I swear it’s clean.” The brunet turned towards the open doorway leading to the back room. “Or we got souvenir sweatshirts and some jeans over in the tourist section?”

“Towel will be fine, thank you,” Steve grinned as he took the steaming cup of coffee and brought it to his lips. 

Not even a half a minute passed before the clerk came back with a pair of clean white towels. He held them out. “Looks like it’s getting worse out there,” he commented.

Setting the coffee back on the counter and accepting the linens with a grateful smile, Steve nodded, “yeah . . . wasn’t raining when I left - - it’s pouring now.” The blond ran the towel through his hair before patting his tuxedo jacket, trying to squeeze out most of the water. Looking around again before turning back to meet the clerk’s grey eyes, Steve asked, “where am I? I just kinda kept walking?”

“Well,” Bucky turned to work with the microwave, “the shop is called ‘Last Resort,’ but the town is called Brooklyn - - Crown Heights.” Bucky glanced over his shoulder with his friendly grin.

Steve’s eyes widened slightly, Tony’s gala had been in Williamsburg; he had walked almost four miles! Also, it now made sense that Steve had recognized some of the streets he’d been walking past . . . he grew up in Brooklyn, after all.

“Huh,” Steve said looking around again, he honestly didn’t think he’d walked that far, “I’ll have to call a cab or something . . . doesn’t look like the rain is easing up anytime soon.” He looked back at the cashier; Steve felt like he could stare into those eyes forever. 

Bucky turned, placing a warm bowl of deli soup in front of Steve.”Here, you need something hot.” He stood smiling, watching the attractive blond.

Smiling back, Steve ate a small spoonful of the soup . . . the flavors were a little bland but the warm broth helped his chilled body. “Thank you . . .” the blond looked for a name tag, "Pietro." The clerk didn’t look like a _Pietro_.

Laughing, Bucky nodded. “No fair. I can’t peek at your name.” His eyes held amusement and a trace of pure mischief.

Leaning forward on the counter a bit, Steve let his eyes take in the brunet’s sharp cheekbones and light stubble; the man really was beautiful. “All ya gotta do is ask, _pal_.” 

“You too,” Bucky responded immediately.

Quirking a brow, lips pulling into a smirk, Steve asked, “Well, I’m pretty sure your name is not Pietro . . . so, what is your name?”

“James, it’s pouring outside!” The very drenched college kid came back in, wringing her auburn hair and looking almost drowned.

“James, huh?” Steve turned amused eyes to the brunet. 

“Yeah, my name tag’s at home. I forgot it, but rules here say I have to have a name tag, so, I’m Pietro tonight.” Bucky laughed and looked over at the woman. “Hey, Wanda, you wanna go get changed, I can handle the counter.”

“Of course,” she insisted and immediately shut the door to the backroom as Bucky let out a loud laugh.

Steve couldn’t get enough of James’ laugh, the sweet sound drawing him in - - the blond really wanted to know more about the clerk . . . to keep hearing that beautiful, addicting sound.

Turning back to the blond, Bucky said, “my name is really James, but my friends dubbed me Bucky. And, what’s _your_ name?”

Eyebrows raising slightly, Steve had a hard time believing Bucky seriously didn’t know who he was. Most of New York knew who he was . . . the idea that maybe he could start with a blank slate only succeeded to draw him in further. “Steve,” he answered, eyes trailing down Bucky’s form again.

Bucky leaned his arms on the counter and smiled up at Steve, hands loosely folded together. “So, were you disappointed?”

“Disappointed?” Steve asked, looking confused. 

“Yeah,” Bucky unclasped his hands to gesture towards Steve’s soaked tuxedo then clasped them again. “With the party, or opera, or . . . God, don’t tell me it was your wedding and I’m too late.”

Steve looked at Bucky intently; the brunet was flirting with him. This beautiful man with a sweet laugh was interested in Steve. Leaning forward closer, Steve licked his lips and drawled, “perfect timing, actually.” 

“Yeah?” Bucky slid his hand over the counter and onto Steve’s wrist, then pushed his sleeve up slightly, feeling the chilled flesh beneath his warm hand. “So, what do I gotta do to get ya outta those clothes?”

Trying to keep his composure, wanting nothing more than to close the gap between them and kiss those plush lips, Steve asked, “what time do you get off, doll?” 

Not glancing away from those gorgeous blue eyes, Bucky stroked Steve’s arm lightly. “In an hour,” he informed the blond. _Did I just pick up this gorgeous stranger? Me?_

“I have a couple ideas on _what_ you can do to get me out of these clothes.” It’d been a awhile since he’d been with a man, but he wasn’t about to let this opportunity go. They were far away enough from the city center that the chances of being seen were slim to none. 

The back door opened, and the auburn haired woman walked out, looking annoyed to be in the shapeless blue jumpsuit that practically hung on her frame. She threw the pair a dirty, annoyed look, and held out her phone to Bucky. “It is _not_ waterproof.” Her accent sounded Eastern European. “It is a lie. I wish my money returned.”

Bucky patted Steve’s arm once and offered him a wink, then turned to the woman. “Let me see it, Wanda - - it’s not waterproof, you know. Water resistant means you can splash it lightly, but not dunk it in the fish tank.” The tall brunet took the dripping phone and reached into a drawer below the counter, pulling out a small tool to begin working the electronic device open.

“You are most strange, James,” she commented dryly. Turning to Steve she nodded once. “May I serve you?”

“James, here, is taking care of me,” he offered the girl a smile, “thank you, though.” 

She shrugged as if it didn’t bother her, but eyed him as if she did not trust his suave good looks and expensive outfit. Finally, she leaned close and said, “just because we are poor, we are not whores, yes? You can go elsewhere to pick up sex.”

“Wanda!” Bucky looked up, eyes startled. “You are out of line!”

“It’s alright, Bucky,” Steve said smoothly, standing upright once again. He smoothed a hand down the front of his drenched tuxedo jacket and offered the girl a kind smile. He understood where she was coming from; Steve did look out of place. 

“I’m the one hitting on _him_ , Wanda! Stop embarrassing all of us.” Bucky gave her back the phone, but did not move with any kind of violence. “Why don’t you go call Pietro and find out if he’s picking you up or if I’m giving you a ride, again.”

Giving Steve another glare, the woman turned back to the storeroom to use the landline since her phone wouldn’t work. “I only seek to protect you, James. You are too nice to people.”

“It’s alright, I can go,” Steve looked outside, the rain still pouring heavily; he grimaced at the thought of walking in that again. 

“If that’s what you want, Steve, but really. We could be good together. You gonna let a college kid who doesn’t know you drive you off from the best thing that could ever happen to you?” Bucky offered his smile again, winking, trying to relax the beautiful blond once more.

Taken slightly aback by the brunet’s open self-confidence, Steve looked at the other man, trying to get a read on him. Could Bucky be lying? Did he really know who Steve was and was looking for a sugar daddy? Or was he telling the truth and just open with his desires? Steve longed to be free like that, to be able to express himself without worrying about losing everything he’d worked his whole life to achieve.

“Pietro will come. You may leave on time, James,” Wanda stepped from the other room and shot another look at Steve. “So, you have coffee and soup, yes? You will sit at the table?” She sounded more like she ordered the customer.

“Wanda, behave or I tell Erik on you,” Bucky threatened mildly.

The redhead crossed her arms and glared at the taller man. After a moment, she broke the look and walked off to wash some dishes.

Steve had to admit, Wanda didn’t back down . . . he really couldn’t find it in himself to be offended by her rush of judgement. Although, some of it might not be entirely misplaced. Looking at Bucky again, Steve smirked. “I can wait here until you get off? My car is four miles away - -”

Bucky shook his head, smile returning. “Ah, so that’s why you like me? Because I have a car within sneezing distance.” He winked. “No problem. I can give ya a ride wherever ya want.”

Biting his lip, Steve shook his head, he didn’t want Bucky to see where he’d parked his car. He wanted to live this fantasy for as long as he could . . . the sooner the brunet figured out who Steve was . . . the sooner everything would fall apart. “No, that’s okay. I’ll pick it up in the morning . . . or something.”

“Ah, damn, what’d I say wrong?” Bucky continued to smile. “Your line was supposed to be, _‘then take me to your place’_.” With an exaggerated sigh, Bucky squatted down and lifted a small stack of candy boxes to the counter then began restocking several jars.

Jumping at the opportunity to go to Bucky’s home, Steve smiled, just as his mouth opened to say something, Wanda cut him off.

“He is a rich man, yes? He will not want to go to your falling down hovel, James,” Wanda intoned, back to the pair, drawing an eye-roll from Bucky.

“Not every guy in a tux is rich, Wanda . . . and my apartment has no leaks or breaks, so it’s hardly a hovel.” Bucky shook his head.

“I’d love to go back to your place, Bucky,” Steve grinned; he did not argue the point that, yes, he was actually quite rich. 

“His name is not Bucky, it is James,” Wanda slammed down a large serving spoon, whirling around with a glare for the blond. “You do not go to the club with him, so you do not call him that. Only his good friends may call him . . .”

“Wanda, enough!” Bucky finally stopped smiling. “That’s it. I’m calling your dad.” And he pulled out his own phone.

“No, it’s fine, James. Really, she’s just looking out for you,” Steve said. What club was Wanda talking about? 

“No, Steve, you can call me Bucky. And, you Wanda, I don’t know why you insist on thinking that the very first man you spoke to in America is bound to be your future husband, but I’ll remind you. I’m not into girls. So, it’ll never happen. Stop following me around and put your attention firmly back on your boyfriend, Jonah!” Bucky crossed his arms, phone clasped in his left hand, not longer smiling or playful.

Wanda flushed.”But he is not my boyfriend. He is the boy my father wants me to marry . . .”

Rolling his eyes, Bucky said, “he was your boyfriend last week. Stop being so dramatic.”

Steve looked around the store again, feeling a little awkward about the private conversation going on. 

Dragging her hands from the water, Wanda strode up to Bucky her fingers working as if she wanted to scratch something. “You are mean to me, James. I do not wish to follow you . . .”

“Good,” Bucky said softly, “because I’d bore you in a week, kiddo.” He uncrossed his arms and tapped the tip of her nose with a finger, all animosity apparently forgotten by the friendly brunet.

“Unlikely,” Steve muttered softly, eyes still wandering. The blond highly doubted Bucky could be boring . . . just looking at him excited Steve, let alone actually getting to know him. 

Wanda sighed and shook her head. She peeked at Steve and apparently came to a decision. She turned to her coworker and frowned. “And now he does not believe I am your girlfriend because you are foolish enough to argue with me.”

Bucky laughed, giving the girl a quick hug. “You don’t need to protect me, Wanda. I’m twenty-four, not fourteen.” He took the drenched phone again and began fiddling with it. “Now, stock the candy while I fix this thing.”

Cringing softly, Steve hadn’t realized how young Bucky was. A six year age difference wasn’t completely uncommon . . . but enough to be a little worrisome. Finally, Steve looked back to Bucky, still shocked by the unnatural beauty the man possessed. 

After unsealing the phone, Bucky opened it and poured the water from it. Shaking his head, he pulled several paper towels off a roll and laid the phone pieces on the stack.”Need a few hours to dry,” he said.

“Rice,” Steve offered, looking down at the phone.

“What?” Wanda frowned, looking up, a handful of individually wrapped _‘Atomic Fireballs’_ gripped in one hand.

“Put the phone pieces in a bag filled with rice . . . leave it in there for about a day. Should soak up most of the moisture.” Steve smiled softly at the young woman; he’d dropped a lot of phones in his day. 

The brunet nodded his agreement. "Sure beats several days of air drying, Wanda. Steve’s right. You should try rice. There might be some in the storeroom,” he turned to go check, but the redhead sprinted past him to look for herself. Bucky turned to Steve, smiling. “Ah, my plot has worked. I have you alone at last, my sweet.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“You can have me alone any time you want, doll,” Steve winked; had it been an hour yet? The blond wanted to tear that jumpsuit off Bucky and pin him against a wall and kiss him breathless. 

“Does that mean I can’t have you in a group?” Bucky asked suggestively.

Snorting softly, Steve shook his head, “never been a fan of sharing . . . I’m quite selfish actually. I want you all to myself.” 

“How about I just take you to a public place and let you have your way with me?” Bucky leered.

“Run,” Wanda said softly, seriously.

Steve’s eyes snapped to Wanda, for the first time feeling slight annoyance at her continued interruptions.

“It is for your protection, now, I warn you, Steve. Run far and fast. Do not let James take you to his club. You will never be the same. Pietro has gone and he is a different person,” she warned with serious eyes.

“What club?” Steve asked, worried that Bucky might be involved in something illegal. He couldn’t risk, not even if he was sure that no one would find him here, sleeping with a criminal . . . PR would be a nightmare.

“He’s happier, Wanda, freer,” Bucky told her then looked back at Steve. “Don’t think _you’re_ ready for it, Steve. Not for everyone.”

Wanda threw her hands in the air in a very European gesture. “I try to help you, Steve, but you will not listen. He will convert you like he did my brother. Then you will spend all your time at that beastly club with that woman.” She turned to grab her phone and slip the pieces directly into the bag of rice she’d found.

“What club?” Steve repeated turning to look at Bucky, his eyes serious. He needed to know the truth, before whatever was going on between him and Bucky continued.

Sighing, Bucky said “Wanda’s exaggerating. It’s just a dance and dinner club.”

Quirking a brow, Steve did not look like he believed Bucky.

The brunet shook his head, his smile quirking slightly then disappearing again. “Fine, you can look it up on the web, if you want. But I guarantee you won’t believe her when you’re done. It’s called _‘My Lady’s Chamber’_.”

“I would, but I don’t have my phone,” Steve admitted.

“Right,” Bucky shook his head and sighed, handing over his phone. He never did call this Erik person he’d threatened to. “Go ahead, it’s unlocked.”

Taking the phone, Steve quickly opened the web browser and typed in the name of the club in the search engine. Clicking the first site that came up, Steve was surprised to see that Bucky hadn’t been lying. According to their site, _’My Lady’s Chamber’_ was an up-and-coming dance and dining club. It looked to be decorated as some sort of dungeon and it appeared to be some sort of fetish club . . . but it didn’t look to be as bad as Wanda had been saying.

Among the pictures of the club and some of the apparent patrons were women and men dressed in clothing from different periods or different genres, with labels for which hosted event the shot came from though no names were presented. There was even one of Bucky himself dressed for either a Victorian theme or Vampire theme, though no label yet appeared on his photo. The web page appeared as if it might still be under construction.

Handing the phone back to Bucky, Steve released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Looks fun, Buck,” the nickname fell from his lips without a thought, “uh . . . Bucky.”

Waving a hand, Bucky finally smiled widely. “Buck’s fine,” he said. “Actually, the shots she’s had loaded are only of the hosted events. She has a strict policy of no public shots for general private dining.” He glanced at the phone and rolled his eyes at his photograph. Smiling he said, “oh, I didn’t know she was going to use that one! How embarrassing.”

“It is an evil place,” Wanda insisted. “You see the pictures, Steve. Do not let him take you there.”

Bucky looked at Wanda. “Okay, my deepest darkest fetish is revealed. I like blood.” He shook his head and flicked the photograph off then put the phone in the pocket of his jumpsuit. “Besides, I’d never take someone there on a first date. Tasha wouldn’t let us through the door.”

“Now I’m just curious,” Steve laughed, he wanted to see the club for himself. Obviously Wanda felt very strongly against it . . . whereas Bucky was an active member.

The front door rang as it opened, spilling a young, hooded figure into the store. A sign on the door blatantly read ‘no hoodies,’ so this man broke the rules, but Wanda and Bucky seemed not to notice the potential for a robbery.

Looking down at his watch, luckily waterproof, Steve noted that the hour had almost passed. Raising his eyes to watch the new person in the building, the blond figured the man was okay, considering neither Wanda or Bucky seemed to care.

The back door opened just after and a rather heavy set woman walked in. She frowned and shook her umbrella. “Cats and Dogs, I swear!” She looked over. “Ah, Pietro’s here. Good, go home girl. Before the crazies get up and come in for coffee. How goes it James? This a boyfriend or a customer?”

Bucky smiled. “Both if I’m lucky,” he drawled.

With a snort, the woman nodded. “Well, he’s dripping on the counter and my floor. Go home. I’ve got this covered. I’ll have a full staff in less than thirty.” The woman waved her hands, and Wanda and the hooded Pietro didn’t hesitate, taking off before she could rescind the offer.

Grinning, Bucky headed for the back room, grabbing a leather jacket from the wall hook. Stepping into the main room, he asked, "Hey, blue eyes, you still want that ride, darlin’?” Bucky winked.

At this rate, Steve wasn’t sure they’d even make it to Bucky’s apartment. “As long as you’re stilling offering,” the blond responded in a sultry tone.

Laughing, Bucky pulled his keys out of his pocket. “Hey, can I leave the jacket?” He looked back at the woman. “I don’t wanna wreck it in that downpour.”

“You need a normal coat, James Barnes! You and that jacket and that motorcycle. You’re a regular _Hell’s Angel_!”

“I left the bike at home tonight,” he laughed then turned to Steve, winking. “Just didn’t think it’d be raining _this_ hard so gave into vanity and brought the jacket.” He leaned into the storeroom and re-hooked the jacket on the wall.

 _Of course Bucky rides a motorcycle_ , Steve thought, instantly saving the imagine of the lean brunet on a bike for later.

Still chuckling, Bucky led Steve out the front door, claiming “they let the night shift park out front so the store doesn’t look empty and tempting.” He opened the door to show the beat up little sedan. “Climb in. Don’t worry about the water. This thing’s so far gone, water’ll improve it.” Bucky moved around to the driver’s side and fought the door open on a screech.

Steve looked around the parking lot warily, as if looking for something or someone, before sliding into the car, cringing as the car seemed to protest his weight. Now, Steve wasn’t sure if they’d make it to Bucky’s apartment simply because they might die on the way. 

“We haven’t been robbed at dawn in over two years, since Erik took over the place. You can relax, Steve,” the brunet struggled his door closed and slid the key into the ignition. The car might be a rust bucket, but it purred to life like any finely tuned race car. “There we go, baby,” Bucky purred back to the machine.

 _Robbed?_ Steve shook his head incredulously; were they really in that dangerous of a neighborhood? The blond wished he could bring Bucky back to his apartment . . . but he knew that couldn’t happen . . . not ever. Steve buckled his seatbelt, anxious to get to their destination.


	2. Testing the Waters

Backing smoothly out onto the dark, wet road, Bucky began the short drive back to his shared apartment. “So, what neighborhood are you from, Steve? You have the sound of Brooklyn, but something’s off about it.” He grinned without taking his eyes off the road. “You escaped young or for college?”

“Uh . . .” Steve rubbed the back of his neck, looking a little nervous, “you’re right, I grew up in Brooklyn . . . but I moved to DC for college. I’ve been back in New York for about four years now.”

“So, about twenty-six at the youngest, but you carry yourself with more assurance, like you’re a bit older,” Bucky commented. “So, about twenty-nine? Thirty?”

“Thirty,” Steve confirmed with a soft blush, hoping the age difference wouldn’t bother Bucky.

“I love a man with power and grace,” Bucky chuckled. “Kids don’t have the poise, do they?” He turned into an alley and pulled up against a wall covered in graffiti.

Looking at the surrounding area with wary eyes, Steve looked back to Bucky, “this your apartment?”

“No, this is the alley _behind_ my apartment,” he chuckled. “My apartment leaks less.” He struggled his door open and slipped the keys into his damp jumpsuit.

“Smartass,” Steve grumbled with a smile as he opened his door. 

“And cute, too. Total package,” Bucky shot back. “So, last chance. I can drive you somewhere else or you come in, get cleaned up, and spend a few hours until you can go for your car . . . or your yacht with this downpour. You’d think Sandy was back.” The brunet leaned into the car to smile at Steve.

Steve smiled back at Bucky before stepping out of the car into the pouring rain once more. He hurried over to the brunet’s side, “let’s get outta this weather, yeah?”

“You got it, darlin’,” the brunet drawled and slammed his door . . . twice, before turning and leading Steve up the nearby fire escape. At the third floor, Bucky slipped open a solid door, using an old key, and pulled it wide. “In, in . . .”

Stepping into the apartment, once again thoroughly soaked, Steve shook himself, water droplets flinging from his blond hair.

Bucky closed the door behind him, locking it once more, which seemed counter-intuitive for a fire door. He called loudly, “He followed me home, can I keep him?”

“Depends. Did ya bring me breakfast?” A gruff voice called out from a bedroom down the hall. A door squeaked open and a burly brunet with a strong jaw and harsh brown eyes walked into the room.

“Nope, I fed it to him, actually,” Bucky laughed. “But I couldn’t resist, he’s so cute with his big blue eyes, and he’s all wet and stuff.” The soaked brunet stepped over to the darker man and kissed his cheek, “heya, honey. I’m home.” He headed for a room across from the other man’s. “Steve? Coming?” he called with a smile over his shoulder.

Steve slid past the other man, trying to ignore the cold glare he was receiving, and rushed to follow Bucky.

“Oh, Brock, Steve, Steve, Brock,” Bucky called the introductions as he walked further into his room, beginning to unzip the jumpsuit with one hand, pulling out his phone, wallet, and keys with the other. “The shower’ll be warmed, just ignore the groaning.”

Looking around at the dingy room, Steve slipped off his soaked tux jacket, folding it neatly to set on the floor, and began to loosen his black tie.

The room was small, dark, old, but well kept. Bucky obviously kept the place clean, even if it could use newer wallpaper than what had been laid down in the 1970’s. There sat a beat up desk and straight backed chair to one side, a closet of clothes and shelved items, and a full sized iron-framed bed with an odd ring on each post.

Turning, pushing the one-piece blue cotton outfit down to his hips, revealing a white undershirt and the top of white briefs, Bucky shook his head, “don’t think it’s salvageable, Steve. Sorry. Hope the rental place won’t gouge you too bad.”

“Luckily it ain’t a rental,” Steve supplied mindlessly; he had several tuxedos just like this one . . . he wasn’t concerned in the slightest for the material.

Wincing, Bucky swore, “Damn, sorry, darlin’. Lot of money down the drain there.” He shook his head. “My tux rental for prom was harsh enough, but to shell out to own one? Unless you borrowed it and your friend’s gonna be pissed?”

Looking at Bucky, Steve finally accepted that the brunet had no idea who he was . . . the realization was liberating. “Mind if I close the door?” Steve asked softly.

“Go right ahead. But the shower’s off the hall.” Bucky grinned and opened his closet, his jumpsuit still hanging around his hips. He kicked off his boots. “I got something in here might fit you, but you need to go commando unless you like sharing drawers?”

After shutting the door, Steve looked at the brunet . . . maybe he’d gotten the wrong impression? Bucky didn’t seem very interested in doing anything other than changing clothes. The blond flushed at the thought that the brunet may not have been as interested as he let on.

Finally, Bucky came back out of the closet with a smile, holding a pair of bathrobes, and nothing else. “Shower? Or snuggle for warmth?” Bucky grinned.

Stepping closer to the brunet, Steve breathed, “got a few ideas of what we could do for warmth.”

Nodding, Bucky slipped past the large blond and tossed the robes over the back of the chair. He finished pulling off his wet jumpsuit, as well as his socks, and tossed them into a hamper in the closet. In only his damp briefs, the brunet turned and smiled. “Are you clean, darlin’?” he asked softly.

“Yeah,” Steve answered, walking over to the edge of the bed and running his fingers over one of the cool, metal rings that hung from the frame. The blond knew what the metal rings were for; he’d been with a few different partners throughout the years.

“Me, too,” the brunet breathed and stepped over to Steve, stopping just before he could touch the man. “But condoms are in an under bed drawer anyway . . . until we’re . . . serious?” He gestured to a set of drawers fit snugly under the high set bed.

“Of course, Buck,” Steve agreed. Looking over at the brunet, the blond didn’t know how to ask his next question. Deciding to just swallow his nerves, Steve asked, “how do you like things to go, Bucky? With your . . . partners?”

“Go?” Bucky smiled. “I’m pretty easy.” He slid off his briefs and tossed them towards the closet then stood before Steve, semi-erect.

Growling softly, still dressed in his soaked clothes, Steve stepped closer and ran his fingers down Bucky’s side, along the brunet’s ribs.

Purring, Bucky dropped to his knees and started unfastening Steve’s trousers, looking up through dark lashes. “Let me make you feel good, darlin’.”

Moaning quietly, Steve closed his eyes and smiled; he hadn’t been this excited for months. Bucky seemed to know exactly what to say and do to spark every nerve. “So pretty, baby. Such a pretty boy.”

Smiling, eyes following Steve’s movements, Bucky pulled the man’s erection out of the soaked trousers. “Thank you,” he whispered, a rumble in his throat. “I’ll be good for you, darlin’ . . . if you let me.” He poised there, Steve held in his hands, but not moving to do anything further, not even a caress.

“Go ahead, baby,” Steve smiled, opening his eyes and looking down at Bucky, running his fingers through the brunet locks.

“Thank you,” the brunet purred and slid his tongue over the man’s cockhead, licking at the tip and tracing his slit. Opening his mouth wider, Bucky began to slide Steve into his hot mouth, sucking and licking as he went. Caressing his hands over the thickened shaft, Bucky used his fingertips to stroke lightly, barely, against Steve’s heavy sack. He looked up at Steve with a look of pure devotion.

Fingers tightening, Steve thrust his hips slightly, moaning louder as he let his head fall back. “God, Buck . . . such a good boy.”

Bucky let out an answering whimper and took the forceful entry gladly, his own member filling with the stimulating tug at his hair. Pain and pleasure meshed and Bucky hummed softly as he continued to suck and engulf his lover’s member.

The humming sent a jolt of pleasure through Steve’s body and he jerked his hips again. “Buck . . . baby - -” his fingers tightened more and pulled the brunet off gently.

As the erection popped out of his mouth, Bucky looked up, eyes nearly closing at the continued hair pulling. He slowly closed his mouth and licked his lips.

Releasing Bucky’s hair, Steve ran his hand down the side of the brunet’s face, “baby . . . wanna get on the bed? I gotta get out of these clothes. How about you open yourself up for me, hmm?”

“Yes . . .” Bucky hesitated to add a title, not knowing which one Steve might prefer. “Thank you.” The brunet shifted around to open one of the drawers, revealing scarves and other bondage items. Neatly set up next to the bindings were compartments holding lube and condoms. Bucky pulled out a pack of condoms and a bottle of lube. He also slid open a second drawer and pulled out a thin dildo. Closing the drawers, the brunet climbed onto the bed and lay down.

Pulling off his tie, Steve watched Bucky’s every movement as he began to unbutton his dress shirt. Sliding the shirt off his shoulders, Steve threw the garment in the general direction of where he’d folded his jacket. All the clothes would most likely have to be thrown out anyways, so he didn’t care enough to handle them gently.

Carefully, Bucky began to stroke himself, pouring a generous amount of lube into his hands and caressing it into his own ass and over his member. Sliding two fingers into himself with very little prep, Bucky moaned softly and began to caress and stretch himself, avoiding his own prostate, drawing out the need without the reward. He no longer touched his own erection, either.

“That’s it, baby,” Steve cooed, member twitching at the sight of the brunet stretching himself. Slipping off his dress shoes and socks, the blond finally slid his wet trousers, along with his boxer briefs, down his legs.

Pulling his fingers from his passage, Bucky slid the dry dildo inside instead and keened in pleasure-pain, enjoying the stretch, the threat of possible tearing, but certain he wouldn’t push that far . . . yet. He remained carefully depriving himself of the erotic pleasure of hitting his prostate, leaving that reward for his lover’s discretion. For now, he would keep their love play tame, but eventually, if things went well, Bucky would actually disobey Steve . . . and see just what that beautiful muscular man could dole out for punishment.

“Look at you . . . my pretty boy. Doin’ so well,” Steve called out gently, stepping closer to the edge of the bed and picking up one of the condoms Bucky had taken out. “You’re listening so nicely, baby.” The blond sank onto the edge of the bed with one knee, rolling on the condom over his erection with experienced fingers.

Panting, Bucky keened, “thank you, Captain,” inadvertently slipping into his private military kink, unaware he’d even said the title.

“Captain, huh?” Steve chuckled lightly and then leaned over to run his tongue along Bucky’s inner thigh.

Bucky froze and groaned softly at his own revelation. Breaking their game a bit, he said, “want a different rank?” He hoped Steve’s chuckle hadn’t been actual derision. He stayed still.

Nipping harshly, enough that there’d be a small mark in the morning, at the sensitive skin of Bucky’s thigh, Steve asked, “did I say you could stop, Sergeant?”

Groaning softly, gratitude in his voice, Bucky began thrusting the dildo more forcefully into his ass, still leaving his own member slicked but untouched. He’d been ordered to prepare himself, not pleasure himself after all. “Yes, sir, Captain,” he panted.

“You like getting fucked, Sergeant?” Steve asked, his voice heavy with lust and desire. He moved his hands to caress Bucky’s hips, his thumbs rubbing circles along the bone.

“Only by you, Sir,” Bucky moaned softly. Bucky pulled the dildo out, needing more, and slipped three fingers into his loosening passage with a low keen.

“You want me to fuck you?” Steve breathed, hands tightening around the brunet’s hips, erection twitching and leaking precum.

Without pause, Bucky drew his own hand out of his ass and nodded, “Yes, Captain, please. Fuck me . . . use me . . .” he was quite willing to skip up to the size of Steve’s member . . . he was satisfyingly large, promising quite a stretch and burn.

Steve shifted so that he was between Bucky’s legs, without warning the blond grabbed the brunet’s legs and hooked them over his shoulders. “Safeword, Buck?”

“Hydra,” he panted, smiling up at Steve and caressing one hand up and against Steve’s cheek, feeling the scruff of beard starting.

“If I ask you to check in . . . I expect an answer, okay? If I get none . . . I will stop,” Steve stated honestly.

“Check in? Yeah, I can do that, Steve. But,” Bucky licked his lips. “Don’t hit me or choke me. That’s not first date kinda stuff, ya know?” He stroked the cheek again.

“No, it’s not,” Steve agreed and pressed his tip to Bucky’s entrance. “Check in, baby.”

“Green, Captain,” he purred back, staying completely still, letting Steve set the pace.

“Good boy,” Steve moaned and pushed in slowly, almost agonizingly.

“Yes, sir,” Bucky moaned back, enjoying the total burn, the near overfull sensation already, with only the tip inside him.

Gripping Bucky’s hips tighter, Steve continued to push in, the tight heat nearly overwhelming. Bucky felt so good . . . so right. Steve had never felt like this before.

Lifting his hips slightly, readjusting himself on Steve since the man wouldn’t know his cues yet, Bucky dug his heels slightly into the blond’s broad shoulders. “Good, so good, sir . . .” he purred, clenching around Steve to show his approval then relaxing his passage once more.

“God, baby, you’re perfect. So fucking hot,” Steve finally bottomed out and stayed still to allow the smaller man to get accommodated to his size.

“Yellow . . .” Bucky moaned softly, needing to adjust to the incredible size of this man. Steve was the largest partner he’d ever taken.

Stilling, Steve looked down and loosened his hands on Bucky’s hips, allowing the man to adjust as needed.

Bucky lifted slightly shaking hands from the crumpled bedspread to Steve’s smooth shoulders. He opened his eyes and softly said, “okay, ready, Cap.” He caressed over the muscles.

Nodding, Steve pulled out halfway and then pushed back in, making sure to brush against Bucky’s prostate. “Good boy . . . my sweet, precious boy,” Steve murmured softly, thumbs running over the brunet’s hipbones.

Letting his head fall back into the pillow, Bucky keened, his eyes rolling back. His hands squeezed Steve’s shoulders.

Keeping his thrusts shallow, to allow Bucky time to get well adjusted, Steve moved his hands to squeeze the brunet’s ass before trailing his hands up Bucky’s thighs and then back down to grip the smaller man’s member.

As soon as his ass was squeezed, Bucky lived up to his nickname, thrusting without control, taking Steve inadvertently fully inside, roughly. He gasped and groaned loudly, nails digging into Steve’s shoulders.

“Check in, Buck,” Steve muttered worriedly.

“Uh . . . uh . . . not . . .” Bucky tried to gain his breath and grunted out, “yellow, I think?” He hadn't expected to react so hard, but those strong hands . . .

“Do you need me to stop?” Steve asked clearly, hands already lifting off Bucky’s body.

“No, just . . . don’t do that again, yeah?” He moaned, catching his breath and relaxing once more. “You are fucking strong, Cap.”

Smiling, Steve placed his hands back down, caressing the brunet’s member and heavy sac with gentle hands.

“Okay, green,” the brunet smiled up at Steve, pupils blow so wide his eye color was indiscernible. “You could break a guy with those glorious hands,” Bucky breathed, his voice sounding soft with wonder.

Laughing softly, Steve slowly began to roll his hips again, thrusting in and out of Bucky’s passage, opposite of his movement with his hands on Bucky’s erection.

“Tell me if you want me to move,” Bucky said, lying quiet as he let Steve fill him over and over again, loving the power of the man, the control in him. As an afterthought, he added, “Cap.”

“I’ll let that one slide this one time, since you’ve been such a good boy,” Steve moaned.

“Thank you, Sir,” Bucky breathed, real gratitude in his voice. He looked forward to going even further with this man, but had to reign himself in, pushing away the idea of Steve raising red welts on his sensitive ass. Bucky wanted to be absolutely sure of this new partner before allowing the man that kind of dangerous control.

“I’m gonna start moving a little faster, that okay?” Steve asked.

“Of course, sir,” Bucky answered promptly. “Use me, sir.”

Growling low, Steve pulled out and then snapped back in, his movement jutting the bed slightly. He repeated the action again and again.

A sharp keen broke from Bucky’s throat as he felt the sharp pain dulling into a burn. He lay still, fighting the desire to move into this man’s harsh rhythm.

As if sensing his lover’s struggles, Steve breathed, panting, “can . . . move . . . baby.”

At those words, Buky began thrusting back, his heels hooking behind Steve’s neck in an acrobatic maneuver. He found the rhythm rather quickly and keened every time they successfully slammed together.

“You gonna cum for me, baby?” Steve asked as he continued his brutal pace, slamming into Bucky over and over again.

“Sir? You want me to now?” he asked back, feeling the stretch in his ass and the tugging on his manhood. “Tell me when _you’re_ there, Cap?”

“Fuck, baby . . . I’m getting close, you’re so fucking tight.” Steve moaned, his thrusts becoming erratic and losing their rhythm.

“Tell me when you’re almost over the edge, Darlin’,” Bucky whimpered trying to meet the rhythm but knowing it for a lost cause; they were both so close.

“I’m there, Buck . . .”

“Hydra!” Bucky whispered, almost inaudibly, stilling.

“Shit!” Steve pulled out completely, stepping away from the bed with his hands raised in the air slightly. his breath coming out in harsh heaves. Looking over at his lover with wide, fearful eyes, the blond asked, “ _Jesus_ . . . did I hurt you?”

The brunet lay still, catching his own breath, watching Steve carefully as the man stood there. Shaking his head, the brunet sat up slowly and looked at the blond in all seriousness. “I had to be sure, Steve,” he said softly.

Breath evening out slightly, he lowered his hands; Steve looked at the brunet with wide eyes, “be sure of what, baby?”

“That you’re a good dom. I had a friend deafened by a bad one.” Bucky reached out and touched Steve’s hand. “I won’t blame you if you’re upset with me, but I had to be sure.” He knew the other man must be aching as much as he did at the sudden denial of stimulation and release.

Nodding, Steve ran his free hand through his hair, “no . . . it’s - - it’s alright. I get it. There are a lot of assholes out there.”

Relief crossed Bucky’s face and he smiled up at Steve. “You can hit me to punish me if you want . . . Captain.”

Stepping closer, Steve ran the back of his hand down the side of Bucky’s face, “no, baby, I ain’t gonna punish you for that.”

Turning his head, Bucky kissed Steve’s hand. “Thank you, sir,” he whispered.

Taking a deep breath, Steve looked at the clock that hung on the opposite wall and his eyes widened, “shit! I - - I gotta go!” He’d been gone from the party for hours . . . people were probably looking for him, a specific person in particular.

Glancing at the clock Bucky nodded and rolled instantly off the bed. He flung open the closet and looked at Steve. “Shirts might be a little tight, but you can borrow whatever you want. The underwear are in the drawers in the back if you don’t mind borrowing.” Pleasure was pushed down and away as Bucky offered to help Steve out, falling willingly into a sub role even out of bed. “At least our feet seem to be the same size,” he added, smiling up at Steve, eyes still dark from their lust.

Giving the brunet a quick kiss on the lips, Steve smiled, “I really hope we can do this again?”

Laughing, unaware just how much Steve liked that sound, Bucky nodded. “Well, you know where I live and where I work. Short of my being off at the club, you can find me whenever you want, Cap.”

Nodding, still curious about this mysterious club, Steve grabbed a shirt and a pair of sweats.

“Did you know that you are beautiful, Steve?” Bucky asked, breathless and openly watching the man move, enjoying his nude form.

Chuckling softly, Steve pulled on the sweats and tugged the shirt over his head, “not nearly as beautiful as you, Buck.”

“Oh, I love you already. Feeding my ego is definitely a plus,” the brunet chuckled as he grabbed one of the robes he’d laid out. “You need a ride? Got enough time to let me clean up . . . or should I drive you in dirty from your loving?”

Slipping on a pair of shoes, Steve shook his head, not wanting Bucky anywhere near the gala, “no . . . I’ll uh - - can you call a cab?”

“Sure,” Bucky smiled and walked over to Steve. He stroked the man’s cheek and leaned in close to kiss his jaw. Softly, he whispered, “ya know, ya don’t have to be embarrassed about where you live, Steve. I won’t judge.” The brunet turned and walked from the room, tying his robe shut.

 _It’s not you I’m worried about_ , Steve thought bitterly as he scooped up all his wet clothes.

“Still here, Brock? No work today?” Bucky laughed as he dialed the landline to get a cab, having forgotten to charge his phone in his excitement over Steve.

Turning from his spot on the couch, Brock grumbled, “had to turn the TV on almost full blast, kiddo! I think Mrs. Livington on the eighth floor heard you two.”

Laughing, Bucky finished giving the company his address and hung up. Walking over to Brock, the brunet dropped a kiss on the other man’s head. “Well, he _is_ amazing.”

“La la la . . .” Brock shouted covering his ears, “Don’t wanna hear it!”

“You are such a baby,” Bucky chuckled, walking back to the kitchenette to start a fresh pot of coffee. “Let me invite you to the club sometime. It’ll open your world.”

Lowering his hands, Brock shook his head, “no way . . . nope. Not into that shit, and you know it.” 

“I can invite Jack. You two would make a hot couple. I’m sure I‘ve seen you checking him out,’ Bucky teased his roommate.

“Ha! Jackie? You’re crazy, kid,” Brock said, and turned his attention back to the TV, “I guess they’re having this hotshot young business guy on the news today. They keep talking about it like it’s a big deal or somethin’.”

“Ha, you know I ignore the news unless the world is bombing us.” Bucky filled a couple of mugs and walked back to his room. “Let the rich folks tend their own affairs. I could care less. I got everything I need right here.” Smiling at Steve, the brunet held out a mug. “Coffee?”

Steve flushed, looking to the floor; of course Bucky would have animosity towards the wealthy . . . most people did. “Uh - - thanks?” The blond shifted his clothes so that he could hold them with one arm and accepted the mug.

“Need a bag? Not sure if anyone can salvage your friend’s tux, but maybe you can ask at the dry cleaners down on 8th?” Bucky pulled out a gym bag from his closet, turning to offer it to the blond.

Giving Bucky a thankful nod, Steve put his clothes in the bag and slung the strap over his shoulder, “well, I guess I gotta get your number now . . . since I am taking a lot of your shit.”

“No phone, no number, Cap,” Bucky teased. “You’ll just have to come find me, instead.” He sipped his coffee, smiling.

Steve quirked an eyebrow, “you don’t have a cell?”

“Yeah, but you don’t,” he pointed out.

“What?” Steve looked confused before a sudden realization dawned in his blue eyes, “Oh! No . . . I have a phone - - I just accidentally left it in . . . my car.”

“Well, until you have a phone so we can swap numbers, I guess you have to show up in person,” Bucky said. “Hear that honking? That’s your ride.” Bucky took the coffee mug from Steve then leaned over and kissed him full on the lips. “The door locks behind you, you don’t need a key to get out,” Bucky informed him.

“Right,” Steve nodded, “I’ll see you soon, okay? Take you out to coffee or something?”

“You know it, soldier,” Bucky sipped his own coffee again. “Need cab fare? Didn’t see a wallet in your clothes.”

“No, Buck, I got it,” Steve smiled and stepped out of the room. As he passed by Brock, the blond said, “nice meeting you . . . thank you, Bucky!” And with that the blond hurried out the door and down the fire escape towards the awaiting cab.

“Hey! Kid!” Brock shouted from his spot on the couch.

Bucky walked into the main room, smiling. “Yeah?”

“Remember that hotshot business man I was talking about?” Brock pointed to the TV, eyes narrowing into a cold glare.

Rolling his eyes, Bucky said, “Yeah?” He walked into the kitchenette to dump Steve’s barely touched coffee.

“Look!” Brock motioned towards the screen again.

Turning to humor his roommate, Bucky sighed. “Okay, what . . . hey . . .” he walked over to stand behind Brock, eyes locked on the screen. “Is that . . .?”


	3. Confrontations

Tony's gala was long since over when the cab pulled up in front of the expansive mansion. Steve paid the cabby, he luckily did have his wallet on him, and walked over to his luxury sedan . . . thank God he hadn't put his keys in his coat pocket along with his phone. Assuming that Sharon had most likely grabbed his coat when she left the party, Steve unlocked his vehicle and slid into the driver's seat. He pressed the start button and the car purred to life.

The entire drive Steve could not get his mind off Bucky, the way the brunet's eyes lit up when he smiled or how good . . . how _free_ it felt to be in his company. The blond knew from just one encounter, he was addicted - - he _needed_ more . . . needed to be a part of Bucky's life. He needed to be the one that made the man laugh and smile, to be the one he _belonged_ to.

Pulling into the parking garage of his high-end apartment complex, just a few minutes away from Stark’s mansion, Steve sighed softly as he parked the car in his designated space. The blond felt stuck, one foot tentatively stepping into the future while the other firmly stuck in the past.

Stepping out of the car, Steve walked over to the elevator that would take him up to his floor. He already knew what he'd be walking into, the questions . . . the animosity. Standing straighter, the tall man pulled out his keys and unlocked the door to the apartment which he shared with Sharon Carter . . . his long-time girlfriend.

As the door opened, he could hear the worried tones of the woman he lived with. “. . . never does this kind of thing. - - no, not since midnight. - - I _am_ in his home. He lives with me! - - no, he didn’t have his car . . . and the weather turned . . .” The petite blond, dressed in her light pink silk robe and custom-made sheepskin slippers, stepped out of the large kitchen into the dimness of the hallway, triggering the motion sensors, splashing the corridor with bright light. Her curls had been pulled back and away from her face, held up in a matching pink bed scarf she had claimed from his room when they’d first met, seemingly totally unaware of the real purpose for the long, soft material. Her bluetooth was set firmly in her ear and she had her arms wrapped around her slender form, as if holding herself together. Without reaching up to shut off her phone, Sharon looked directly at Steve and said, “no, officer, I have no idea why he would leave an important party in his own honor for several hours in a raging thunderstorm without even his coat or phone.”

Sighing, Steve set Bucky’s duffel down by the wall, so that it was out of the way. He ran a hand through his hair, mentally preparing himself for the barrage of questions undoubtedly coming his way. “Sharon . . . I’m sorry, okay? I - - I needed some air,” Steve knew she wouldn’t buy that excuse, but he tried anyway. 

Sharon stopped talking to the alleged cop on the other end. She removed the device without shutting it off, proving she’d been using it solely for _his_ benefit, not really calling the police. “How many hours did you need to take air in a raging storm, Steve?” She asked, frowning.

“I just kept walking - - I got caught in the storm . . . I didn’t have my phone so I wasn’t able to call anyone,” Steve stepped closer to his girlfriend. 

“No phone,” she nodded, pulling it out of her robe pocket and holding it out, her perfectly manicured nails sparkling light cream with faceted jewels.

Taking the phone from Sharon with an almost sheepish look, Steve rubbed the back of his neck, “I trust the party went okay?”

“You missed the speeches, but I covered for you. I told everyone that you had bad shellfish for lunch and they were most sympathetic, _darling_ ,” she drew out the word with her perfect enunciation.

Steve froze, the word didn’t sound nearly as good coming from Sharon as it did from Bucky; the brunet said it with affection . . . Sharon said it with near contempt. 

“Did you find a homeless shelter to seek shelter in? How kind of them to provide for one of their benefactors.” She didn’t touch him but began walking towards the bedroom, her manner calm.

Following the woman into the bedroom, Steve shook his head; he _liked_ Bucky’s clothes. He watched his girlfriend warily, waiting for her next attack. 

Finally, the woman turned and put one finger to her lips, hand curving under her chin, in a well-practiced, very attractive pose of thought. Slowly, she lifted her chin from her hand and said, “you smell like sweat and wet dog, Steve. I can arrange for coffee while you bathe.”

Nodding, Steve swallowed and began to pull off Bucky’s snug t-shirt. 

As she passed by her boyfriend, Sharon dropped her voice to a low hiss, “I hope picking up some guy at the shelter was worth the cost, Steve. You’re getting full tests before you’re allowed back in the bed.” She strode calmly from the room, her anger obviously far from spent at his disloyalty.

Grumbling under his breath, Steve walked into the master bathroom and shut the door.

From the hall, Sharon let loose, apparently unable to wait further to express herself, her voice carrying through the solid wood. “I do understand you have these base urges. You know I am perfectly reasonable about these things. But I do not appreciate you abandoning me at a televised event to go sneak off with who knows who and then run the risk of bringing diseases home to me. Steve that was thoughtless and . . .”

Wrenching open the bathroom Steve shouted, “You were attached to Alexander Pierce’s arm _all_ night, Sharon! So excuse me if I don’t feel bad for _abandoning_ you!”

“He is a friend of my father and a very important supporter of Daddy’s campaign. You know that, Steve! I can’t just ignore him.” Sharon’s eyes narrowed.

Bucky’s shirt clenched tightly in his fist, Steve strode out to the hallway, temper flaring. 

“And it wasn’t that you left me for a couple of hours to fend for myself in a room among friends, Steve, the agreement was that you come home at night. _I_ get you at nights, not some randy _guy_ off the street! You agreed! What you did was dangerous and humiliating. Let’s hope you weren’t seen _trolling_.” She glared at her boyfriend.

“What if I’m done living this stupid lie, Sharon? I’m sick of always hiding _who I am_!” Steve pounded his chest lightly, emphasizing the last three words, his eyes blazing with fury. 

“Who you are,” Sharon said, cuttingly, “is a man who is the most sought after COO in the modern world. But with that responsibility comes restrictions and public opinion. Do you really want to lose your work, your lifestyle, and the respect of the world to . . . to stick it in some guy’s asshole, to be blunt?” She shook her head. “My God, Steve, did you leak brains when you came this time?”

“Shut up, Sharon,” Steve growled low, stepping closer to his girlfriend, “ _our agreement_ is that I come home to you . . . and here I am. _You_ have me. Do not act like you care about what would happen to _me_ if I came out. All you’ve always cared about is yourself.”

Shock crossed her face. “You can’t really believe that, Steve? Would a woman who only cared for herself seriously let herself be degraded enough to allow her boyfriend to fuck men?” She shook her head. “I can have any man out there, and I chose you. That should show you how much I care. That I agreed to letting you have your gay fun should show you how understanding I can be about your peculiar habits.”

“Maybe you should find someone else,” Steve snapped and whirled around to stomp back into the bedroom, the bedroom _he_ paid for, calling over his shoulder, the blond ground out, “oh! The guy I _made love to_ was clean!” He slammed the bathroom door shut, locking it behind him.

Softly, sounding lost, scared, and like she was starting to cry, Sharon asked, “are you . . . breaking . . . up with me? You . . . you don’t . . . love me?” She hugged herself, large blue eyes overwashed with tears. “But, I _love_ you, Steve . . . can’t we work this out?”

Steve gripped the granite counter until his knuckles turned white; he didn’t want this anymore . . . he longed for the freedom that Bucky had . . . to be able to be whoever he wanted. But, he’d worked his whole life to get to this point - - he had climbed so many mountains and pushed through any challenges that came his way. Did he really want to give that up? Give up everything he had worked so hard for . . . for what? A guy he just met? Was Bucky Barnes really worth _that_? 

Releasing a deep, quivering breath, Steve unlocked the bathroom door and opened it. 

Sharon remained standing there, tears in her eyes, arms wrapped around herself. She looked up at him through her lashes. “I’m sorry I said such mean things, Steve. I was scared when you disappeared. I thought you might have even been kidnapped.” She shook her head. “But then . . . well . . . can’t we talk about this? Make some agreement or something? I want you to be happy, darling, really I do. I can’t understand how doing those things with a man can make you happy, but I can accept it. Please?”

Sighing, Steve crossed the room and, with a gentle hand, cupped Sharon’s face, running his thumb over her cheekbone, “I’m sorry . . . I lost my temper. I do love you, Sharon.”

“Of course you did, and it was entirely my fault. I’m so insensitive. You’re cold and wet and hungry and need a shower. I’ll get you coffee and breakfast while you get a nice warm shower and dress in your own clothes. We can talk at the table, right, darling?” Sharon offered a hopeful smile up to Steve.

Swallowing, the word still sounding wrong coming from Sharon, Steve nodded and gave her a small smile, “yes, of course, dear.” Why did he feel like he’d just taken a hundred steps back . . . away from his freedom . . . from his happiness?

Smiling brightly, Sharon slipped from Steve’s hand and moved to the large, well appointed kitchen, the sounds of the coffee maker followed by the faint smell of the gas range coming down the hall.

**********

“I don’t think you should see him anymore, kid,” Brock said, the interview with Steve Rogers just finishing up on the television. “Guy is a lying scumbag.”

“He never lied to me, Brock,” Bucky said, leaning over the back of Brock’s seat, his arms draping around the stockier man, voice muted.

“Oh? So you knew he was living with the girl he’d been dating since high school? Doesn’t seem like you, Bucky,” Brock stated, shaking his head softly.

“It never actually came up.” Bucky sighed and dropped his head, his face burying in the man’s hair. “I never asked, he never said. He _did_ say he wasn’t married, though.”

Shaking his head, his anger towards the blond man only growing, “he _used_ you, kid! He shoulda never flirted with you if he had a girlfriend. He’s just like the rest of those prissy assholes . . . thinkin’ they can get away with anything.”

Sighing, his breath ghosting over Brock’s scalp, Bucky stood. “We don’t know if it’s an open relationship, Brock. Let’s not judge him on a stupid interview. You know that reporters skew things.” Bucky turned back towards the kitchen, but his attitude remained subdued.

Standing up, Brock followed his roommate, his thick arms crossed over his chest, “Kid, you are too fuckin’ nice for ya own good. He _played_ you . . . and you’re letting him keep playing you.”

“And I didn’t play him, Brock?” Bucky turned pained storm-grey eyes on the darker man. “I picked _him_ up for the night. It was a mutual fling.”

“ _You_ didn’t know who he was . . . _you_ aren’t in a relationship. Stop making excuses for him . . . he’ll only break your heart, kid. Best not let that happen.” Brock knew how easy Bucky fell for people, how _fast_. The burly brunet did not want to watch it happen . . . not when things could get so messy; dealing with a closeted, rich man would only cause his friend so much pain in the end.

“I . . .” Bucky sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. It was getting long enough to have a bit of curl to it. He needed another haircut. “I’ll withhold judgement until I get his side, Brock. Okay? Like I said, he might be in an open relationship. That guy wasn’t just experimenting. He knew he liked men.”

“He’s in the fuckin’ closet, Bucky! Do you really wanna deal with that shit? Being someone’s dirty little secret?” Brock threw his hands in the air, letting out a loud sigh of exasperation. 

Softly, Bucky said, “he’s not confident in himself enough to admit things, Brock. He could be afraid to come out. I can help him.”

“You don’t have to help every sick puppy that comes scratchin’ at your door! Let this one go, Bucky . . . please?” Brock never pleaded, but he needed to show his friend how serious he was about this. 

Shaking his head, Bucky drew his robe closer around his lean, muscular body. “I don’t know. I wanna talk to him before I make a decision. He deserves to be heard, doesn’t he?” The brunet’s eyes fixed determinedly on his older roommate. “It’s only right to give him a chance.”

“You don’t owe the guy shit!” Brock shook his head, “but, fine, whatever! You wanna get your heart broken . . . you go right ahead! I ain’t cleaning the mess up again,” Brock ground out, knowing this argument was pointless. Bucky had made up his mind; nothing Brock said would change it.

Bucky suddenly broke into a wide grin and threw his arms around Brock in a hug. “I love that you love me, Brock, really, but I’m a big boy.” He kissed the man’s cheek then hurried off towards the bathroom. “Shower!”


	4. Going Home

Two days passed without any word from Steve, not that Bucky could blame him. The brunet had withheld his number specifically to make the blond show face to face if he wanted to continue the relationship. Bucky had learned in college that it was too easy to get his hopes up waiting for the call that never came.

This time the brunet was strictly on counter, Pietro being assigned to stock and clean that night. Dressed in reasonably nice slacks and a button-down white shirt, Bucky slipped his own name tag onto his pocket, chuckling at the memory of Steve’s mix up because of the name tag. Walking out of the backroom, Bucky called, “it’s okay. The stuff came out with a little soap. Lucky I had this spare shirt with me, Petey. Betcha you’ll be glad in an hour when we get to leave, huh?”

Pietro grinned, swiping a strand of his silver hair from his face, “oh, yes! This night has taken too long!”

Laughing, Bucky checked the coffee pot. “Well, I look forward to getting some relaxation in that new Jacuzzi and hot tub Tasha’s had installed in the Aqua Room. I can use a bit of water massage,” Bucky called back.

Eyes shining at the mention of the club, Pietro asked, “you come this weekend, yes?”

Chuckling, Bucky said, “I’m going after shift, are you nuts? I’ll be there this weekend, too, like always, but Tasha said I could try out the new setup if I showed today. I plan to take full advantage of our friendship.”

“You find a new dom, yet? Last one didn’t work out, right?” The young man stood up from where he’d been crouching, stocking the shelves.

“The last one thought it was a great idea to tie my up and leave me there for an hour then go home. I reported him to Tasha when she found me. He’s out and I’m . . . maybe looking.” Bucky flushed softly at the memory of Steve. “Might’ve found the one, but gotta see.”

“You deserve a man that takes good care of you, Bucky,” Pietro offered his friend a kind smile, “you take care of too many people.”

“And so do you,” Bucky laughed. “Wade and you seem pretty good together. Anything happening there?” He began restocking the creamer and sugar on the tables.

Flushing, Pietro ducked his head and laughed, “we shall see, yes? I am quite happy with Wade.”

“Oh?” Looking up, Bucky smiled brighter. “I think I hear something . . . what? New guy at the club I haven’t met yet? Friend of Wade’s even?” His tone was teasing.

Pietro opened his mouth to respond, but his head snapped towards the door when the bell overhead chimed loudly.

Glancing over at the door, Bucky’s smile hesitated then widened in welcome. “Steve!”

Dressed in a light blue, cashmere sweater and fitted, black slacks, Steve smiled widely at the brunet. “Hey, Buck.” He walked over to where the other two men were standing, the blond gave Pietro a friendly nod before looking at Bucky fully.

“Pietro, Steve. Steve, the man who really owns that name tag,” Bucky introduced them. “Wanda’s twin brother.”

“Ah . . . this the new man we were discussing?” Pietro asked, eyes trailing down Steve’s muscular form with appreciative eyes.

“Yes,” Bucky admitted freely. “Like I said, a definite maybe.”

“I’d say so,” Pietro nodded and gave the blond a kind smile. “I’ll go stock . . .”

“The milk and sodas,” Bucky supplied.

“Yes, milk and those weird American sodas you all seem to like,” Pietro gave his friend a smile.

“Me? Personally?” Bucky laughed. He winked at Pietro, “give me something with a bit more kick, maybe some of Tasha’s good wine.”

“Ha! I do not even think Clint gets that,” Pietro shook his head and slid away walking towards the back coolers.

Bucky chuckled, “that’s because Clint’s a beer man, not appreciative of Tasha’s great cellar.” He turned his smile on Steve. “Looks good. Less damp.” He moved towards the coffee. “Want some coffee?”

Laughing, Steve shook his head, “I actually came to see you, Buck.”

Smiling up at Steve, Bucky nodded. “Well, I haven’t had a break. If you don’t mind me jumping up if another customer shows, I can sit for a few at the tables?”

“Not at all,” Steve grinned; he hadn’t stopped thinking about Bucky. No matter how hard he tried to forget their freak encounter . . . Steve felt drawn to the brunet.

Nodding, Bucky stepped over to the closest table and sank down, facing the door, back to the storeroom. Once Steve sat down, Bucky slid his hand across the table. “So, darlin’, saw that interview a couple days ago. I’ve never been in front of a camera. Was it nerve-wracking?” He kept his tone light, wanting answers not defensiveness.

Steve froze, his face visibly paling, “you - - you saw that?”

“Yeah,” Bucky laughed lightly. “Brock insisted, though I normally avoid the news. Must be tiring, a job like that? Was it a party for them that drove you into a near-hurricane? Can’t blame you if it was. Business parties must be a drag when you work all day, too.”

“It was actually _my_ party. Shield Inc. is merging with Stark Industries, I came up with the deal that Stark ultimately agreed to,” Steve looked nervous still, unsure where this conversation was going to go.

“Stark? Big name, that,” Bucky laughed, relaxing even more. “Definitely a lot of work, then. I missed that part, only caught the tail end. The part about you and your long-term girlfriend going into the party.” Bucky stayed relaxed and smiling, but somehow it didn’t seem the same as when Sharon did it. He seemed to genuinely be listening, not plotting a take down.

Clearing his throat, Steve rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you . . . we’ve been dating since high school - -” the blond looked around to make sure no other ears could hear.

“Relax, Steve, Pietro’s in the cooler and can’t hear us,” Bucky seemed to know exactly what bothered Steve. “So, is it an open relationship or doesn’t she know?” He stroked Steve’s hand reassuringly.

Snorting, Steve said in a bitter tone, “oh, she knows, alright. It’s just that - - well, I can’t exactly come out publicly yet. She agreed to let me _see_ men on the downlow if she could move in with me.”

Frowning softly, Bucky didn’t criticize the apparently manipulative girlfriend. Instead, he asked, “why can’t you come out?”

“My whole life I’ve worked to be who I am today . . . and sadly, the people I work with aren’t exactly the most . . . open-minded. I could lose everything,” Steve answered honestly, Bucky deserved to know the whole truth . . . why the blond had to keep his bisexuality a secret.

“Really?” Bucky sounded interested. “I’ll bet a third of them are kinky.” He offered a reassuring smile to Steve.

Chucking, Steve cracked a small smile, “I wouldn’t be surprised . . . but - -” the blond sighed and shook his head, “I guess there’s something specifically wrong with being either gay or bisexual. The last guy that came out in the office was fired within a week of telling the truth. Some bogus claim of sexual harassment or some shit. I’m . . . I’m terrified that I’ll lose everything.”

“Right, no mixing work with pleasure. Got it.” Bucky nodded. “So, your girl lets you have boyfriends?”

“No, not boyfriends, Bucky,” Steve looked at the brunet intently, “she allows me to let loose every once in awhile. God forbid she actually lose some attention.”

“So, that’s what we were then? A fling?” Bucky sighed but nodded, still smiling, softly. “Sorry I denied you a release then.”

“No!” Steve said quickly, eyes widening, “I wouldn’t be sitting here right now if you were just a fling! I’ve never seen any of the men I slept with a second time . . . too risky - - but the truth is . . . I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Isn’t seeing me too risky, Steve?” Bucky asked softly.

“Yes,” Steve nodded, “but not seeing you will _kill_ me. I’d rather take the risk than never see you again.”

A frown crossed Bucky’s face and his eyes looked troubled. “You’re not going to become a stalker if I deny you?”

“Of course not,” Steve snorted, “if you never want to see me again . . . I’d understand completely.”

“You would? Great, because I wouldn’t understand why I wouldn’t want to see you again,” Bucky offered a wide smile, eyes lighting up.

Steve opened his mouth and then closed it, “you - - you mean . . . you don’t hate me?”

“Hate you? For following your agreement with your girl and letting loose with the best guy around? Nah, can’t blame you for that.” Bucky lifted Steve’s hand and kissed the back of it. “Thing is, where do we go from here?”

“That’s what I was going to ask you . . . I - - I can’t leave Sharon . . . not yet. I don’t know what she’d do.” Steve sighed, looking troubled.

“She’s got that much control of your life, Steve?” Bucky stroked Steve’s hand with his thumb, holding it near his lips. “So, tell me true, Captain, are you a dom _and_ a sub?”

Eyes snapping to meet Bucky’s, Steve gaped, “I - - I don’t know? All I know is that she knows everything about me. She could bring me down without barely lifting a finger.”

“So, sounds like she’s got you whipped good. Thing is, we’ve got to figure out if you want to be whipped.” Bucky nodded. “Got it. So, how often is your girl gonna let you hang out with me? Because I was . . . well, I like long term and intimate. I might’ve come off as an easy one night stand, Steve, but that’s not what I’m after.” He sighed. “I want someone who can take care of me . . .”

“She can’t know that I’m seeing the same person each time . . . but as long as I go home every day, she shouldn’t cause too much trouble.” Steve squeezed Bucky’s hand.

“Well,” Bucky frowned softly. “Does that mean you wanna see me between your other guys?” He sounded a bit troubled with the idea.

“No, I only want _you_ , you’re my boy,” Steve said seriously, tone taking on his dominate edge.

Bucky whimpered softly and nodded. “Always,” he admitted, knowing he’d fallen for Steve somewhere between the car and the coffee . . . probably when Steve had shown such respect and backed off on the edge. “What do you want me to do, Cap?” he asked softly.

Lifting Bucky’s hand to his lips, Steve kissed each knuckle softly, “We’ll just hafta be discreet at first. I’m sorry, baby . . . I won’t be able to take you on many public dates - - but a few shouldn’t be a problem.”

Bucky laughed and leaned very close to Steve. “You got a lot to learn about me, my captain. The only public dates I go on are to the club. Fun, friendly, and safe.” He kissed Steve’s hand again. “Unless you order me out somewhere else, it’s the club or the apartment.”

Steve nodded and squeezed Bucky’s hand again, “I can work with that . . . it’ll make staying out of the public eye that much easier.”

“That’s good,” Bucky laughed freely. “I don’t really have the clothes for dating at your social level, darlin’. All my costumes are at the club. I go in the back then get dressed up. It’s easier to keep them clean and neat that way.” He shrugged. “Not much place to store them at my apartment and Brock doesn’t like to know too much about my kink.”

“That’s another thing we gotta discuss . . . what each of us is willing and not willing to do. I don’t want to hurt you or make you uncomfortable, baby,” Steve said softly.

As Pietro came back out of the storeroom, having finished stocking the coolers, Bucky stood slowly, kissing Steve’s hand once more before letting it go. “Well, why don’t you come to the club with me after my shift? Tasha invited me over and you can meet her. We can talk private there, too.”

“Oh? I can finally see this mysterious club?” Steve chuckled.

As the heavy woman walked in through the back door, Bucky nodded. He let go of Steve and walked into the storeroom to grab his leather jacket. “Let me guess, you took a cab or something here, right?” Bucky grinned.

“Well, I think my Lexus would kinda stick out? Dontcha think?” Steve asked with a smirk, rising to his feet.

Laughing, Bucky nodded, “yeah, probably. Well, if you don’t mind about 159 horses humming between your legs, you can come with me.” He scooped up a helmet and offered it to Steve. “Or I can call a cab and leave the bike here and call Brock to come get it?”

Grabbing the helmet with a smile, Steve shook his head, “I’m sure I can handle it.”

Nodding, Bucky led the way out the front door, waving to the woman and Pietro. He waited for Steve to follow to the black Italian racing bike, his pride and joy, and not cheap at over $9000. Straddling the bike, not wearing a helmet, Bucky grinned up at Steve.

Offering the helmet back to Bucky, Steve said, “you wear the helmet. I’ll be fine without it.”

“Ever ridden on the back of a bike before, Cap?” Bucky asked, without reaching for the helmet.

“Nope,” Steve answered, “but you’re wearing the helmet.”

“And you’ll be in the more dangerous position. I’ve got handlebars and you only have my waist. Better chance of you falling off, so, safety protocol says you wear it.” Bucky informed him, still not making a move for the helmet, his smile relaxed.

Steve looked apprehensive, suddenly wishing he had brought his own vehicle.

“I can read your mind, Cap. I’m going to be calling Brock to get the bike and we’re taking a cab, aren’t we?” He laughed, already pulling out his phone. “Next time, I’ll have my other helmet with me.”

“I just don’t like the idea of you without a helmet,” Steve said.

“I don’t normally ride without one,” he assured his lover. He made the calls quickly, getting off the bike, and gestured to a bench chained to the wall in front of the store. “Give us a chance to talk, anyway. Do you mind if I call you Cap outta the bedroom? I can stop.”

“No, I like it,” Steve smiled and sat down on the bench, content to wait for their ride. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“What? Being your mistress?” Bucky asked, relaxing against the wooden bench.

Flushing slightly, Steve nodded, “well, yeah. Trust me, I wish things were different.”

“Well, I fully intend to help you outta the closet in time, Steve.” Bucky grinned at him. “But for now, I’m your dirty little secret. Sounds kinky.”

Steve growled low, moving his hand to caress Bucky’s thigh, squeezing it.

“So, as long as no one sees, you don’t mind PDA?” Bucky smiled at Steve, not moving away at all.

“Trust me, if I thought we had enough time, I’d bend you over this bench and have my wicked way with you,” Steve groaned, wishing that he could do just that.

“Promises ungiven,” Bucky sighed. His trousers had taken on a definite bulge. “Anything you wanna ask me while we wait? Hardly seems fair I know so much about you just because you were on the news.”

Steve nodded, not moving his hand, “I guess I’ll start with the obvious one. How did you discover your . . . kink?”

Laughing softly, Bucky answered honestly, “Well, how does anyone find out they like this shit? Tasha and I met in college and hit it off instantly. I was pretty mixed up and unhappy, figuring I’d never find a girl to settle down with. Nat wanted to try a few things she’d heard about, and I was game. We took turns, traded off, you know? We even brought a couple other friends into our experiments a few times. By the end of that year I found out two very important things that, once I accepted, made me happy. I found out that I love being taken care of, don’t mind suffering if I know I’m gonna be cared for in the end. And, I found out I’m gay. There _is_ no girl to wait for . . . it’s a guy I need.” He looked up at Steve. “You?”

“It was actually with one of the . . . uh - - boys I slept with. He was into bondage and wanted to be _dominated._ At first, I was super scared I’d hurt him, ya know? But he reassured me and it was honestly one of the best nights of my life . . . other than two days ago, of course,” Steve gave Bucky a quick wink.

Laughing again, Bucky shook his head, “it’s great when you can be free, huh? And I can show you a lot better time than the other night. I was testing you, but now . . .” he looked in Steve’s eyes. “Now, I know I can trust you.” He turned to see Pietro coming out of the store and smiled, though Wanda stood there, with a small car, and frowned at seeing the look pass between the two men.

Giving Wanda a friendly nod and smile, Steve said, “hello, Wanda . . . how is the phone?”

“It has dried. I thank you, Steve,” she answered politely, still frowning. “You have not taken my warning. You are still going with James to that place?”

“I am, I trust Bucky . . . he wouldn’t take me anywhere that he knew I couldn’t handle,” Steve answered honestly.

She snorted. “And he will corrupt you as he has my baby brother. Get in the car, Pietro. We leave now.” She climbed into the driver’s side.

Pietro huffed and rolled his eyes, “you are literally two minutes older than me!” The young man slid into the passenger seat.

“Two and three fourths,” she corrected and backed the car from the store parking spot.

“What does Wanda mean by that? That you corrupted her brother?” Steve asked, looking back towards his lover . . . and mistress?

Nodding, watching the car a bit longer before turning to meet Steve’s gaze, the brunet lowered his tone and said, “Well, about two months ago, Pietro came to the store. He was pretty badly beaten, needed stitches. He was nearly hysterical and told me that he’d hooked up with a guy who’d begun to beat him up. The kid was terrified, but not because of the beating, Steve. He said _that_ actually hadn’t bothered him so much. It was the fact that the other guy never stopped, didn’t listen to Pietro when he tried to get away. The kid asked me what kind of freak he was that he could like being hit, but then get all panicky and shit at the end? I told him that he’s not a freak, the other guy is. I explained that there’s nothing wrong with liking pain or to be punished. What’s wrong is the other guy didn’t respect him enough to stop when he was taking it too far. What a way for a guy to find out he’s a sub, huh?” Bucky shook his head, light eyes stormy in angry memory. “So, I told Pietro I’d take him to a place where he could find a dom that would respect him and take care of him. The very next day, I took him to the club to meet Tasha. His sister, Wanda, disapproves of me encouraging Pietro to explore his submissive side.”

“She should just accept that it’s part of who Pietro is,” Steve shook his head softly, “he can’t do anything to change it.”

“You know that, and me and Pietro know that, but Wanda’s not into our kink. She can’t understand it, especially since he likes being hit and tasting blood.” Bucky sighed.

The cab pulled up and the pair climbed in. As close as the gala had been to Steve’s apartment, the store and the mysterious club were equally near to one another. The outside was pretty nondescript, a plain brick and mortar building with a simple sign stating ‘My Lady’s Chamber’ over the door. Only a few cars or bikes were parked in the vast lot, marking that the place might just be open or that some patrons or staff had yet to leave. Bucky climbed from the taxi and paid, waiting for the cab to leave before turning a serious look on Steve.

“Look, Steve, you gotta know a few things before I can take you inside. This place is exclusive, not just anyone gets in. There’s an application process, if you will. First off, someone can’t be invited in if it’s the first date. That’s a steadfast unbreakable. Second, everyone has to be tested. What I put you through? That’s Tasha’s test for every dom. If you don’t pass, you don’t get past the door at all. A dom has to be able to respect the sub. Subs get tested too, but it’s a bit different for us. We have to prove that we can take control if the safeword comes out . . . we have to be able to take care of ourselves. It’s complicated, of course, and we get a lot of education about subspace and topspace and trust. But, only two people were waived for testing, and that was Pietro, who proved he would fight back already . . . that’s how he got away from the bastard that hurt him so bad. The other sub that was waived is Clint . . . the friend who was deafened by his dom before finding Tasha . . . he’s the only sub on Tasha’s payroll. He’s most often found in Tahsa’s office.”

“Deafened? Jesus Christ . . . what happened?” Steve asked incredulously. 

“Yeah, you know about subspace?” Bucky looked serious, keeping Steve standing outside of the club for the conversation.

“Yeah, never actually been able to reach on anyone, but I’ve read about it,” Steve answered. 

“Well, Clint was there, you know? And while he was there, his dom took an ice pick to his ears.” Bucky looked at Steve. “Sadistic bastard and Clint never knew it. Clint got lucky. Turns out the guy had killed someone before.” Bucky looked down at his hands and drew a deep breath. “You remember when you grabbed my ass the other day and I pretty much lost it?” He looked at Steve. “If you’d kept it up, I’d have gone subspace.” He drew in his breath, seeming nervous for the first time, giving out something so personal to a guy he’d only met twice, even if he had agreed to be the man’s sub.

“Really?” Steve looked thoughtful, he leaned down to press his lips to Bucky’s temple, “thank you, baby, for trusting me with that.”

“Yeah, only Tasha knows other than you. The standing rule is no one touches my ass except to enter me. Strictly hands off. Now you know.” He let Steve kiss him, enjoying the comforting sensation from the man, knowing it was a small proof he’d trusted the right guy.

Finally, Bucky turned and pushed open the door to the club, offering a smile to someone in the shadows. “Heya, I brought a date. We’re gonna see Tasha. Can we come in?”

The man barely glanced at Steve before nodding to the long-time patron. “In her office,” the man said.

“C’mon, Steve. You’ve got to apply to be a member here.” Bucky said, smiling once again as he grabbed his lover’s hand. As he guided the blond, the brunet said, “those are the _’shadow guard’_. They are literally everywhere except the private rooms.”

Letting Bucky lead him through the dimly lit area, Steve barely had time to look around, but he caught sight of a raised stage in the middle of the main room, the dining tables surrounding it, so that everyone in the room got a good view of what happened on the stage. 

When they reached the door at the other end of the main room, opposite the entry door, Bucky turned and gestured one handed, ignoring anyone else in the vicinity. “This is Tasha’s office, and it’s not part of the club. It’s exclusive to her. There’s only two reasons you want to even cross into this place. First is upon invitation to join the club. She’ll talk to you and see you get the training you need. She’s got payroll staff, but patrons are required to have training, too, so they can respect the boundaries. The other time? If something goes wrong, and I mean shit goes down where you are in a life threatening situation? This is a safe room. It’s only been used twice before for that, and we hope to never see it used again for what it was designed for. The number on the door? It changes when it’s used as a safe room. It’s been a two for over a year now. Our goal is to never see it go to three.”

“What happened?” Steve asked, looking at the _’two’_ on the door and then back at Bucky. 

Bucky leaned against the wall, nodding to a man in red and black full body leather, even mask, nearby. Turning back to Steve, he said, “It became a one when some punks broke in and shot up the place, trying to rob it when it first opened. The paint wasn’t even dry yet. Tasha had been showing me around the place, explaining things about her idea of the rules, the training, and everything. It was just me and her here at the time, so we got real lucky. These punks burst in and started shooting right away. Tasha threw me in her office and hit the panic button. It sealed up and alerted the cops immediately, along with other emergency people. Couldn’t have asked for a better test, you know? But it wasn’t a test. They caught the fuckers, too, making off with a lot of expensive decor. Insurance covered most of the repairs.”

Steve growled softly at the thought of someone hurting Bucky, “I’m glad you two weren’t hurt . . . that could’ve gotten bad if Tasha hadn’t reacted fast.”

“Tasha has the best reflexes of anyone I know. She was trained in ballet and gymnastics back in Russia before she immigrated.” Bucky sighed. He then continued the story, eyes going once more to the man in full leathers. “Two was about a month after the club opened. We had a brand new dom invited in by his sub boyfriend of about two months. Things were great. The dom passed his test and his training and he was a regular, everyone loved him even though he was arrogant as shit and twice as weird.” Bucky smiled. “But this was before subs were tested, and during one night of playing, the sub asked his dom to burn him. That’s a bit kinkier than I go for, but I’ve heard worse. His dom agreed, and it turned out the sub had never tried such kink before and had misjudged his own tolerance. He freaked out. He forget his own check ins, his own safe word. The dom called the safe word, but the sub didn’t hear him. After maybe the third scream from the dom, _we_ could hear him. Me and Clint broke down the door, and we had to drag the guy to the safe room and lock ourselves in, while Tasha got everyone else out of the club.” Bucky drew a long, shuddering breath and said, softly, voice dripping in remembered horror, “the sub had freaked out so completely, he set the dom on fire.” Bucky ran a shaking hand through his hair. “Later we found out that when the sub failed his check in, Wade, the dom, called the safe word and stopped, but the sub was too far gone. He attacked Wade with the flame source, sixty percent of his body was second and third degree burns. Wade nearly died twice. The sub’s banned and in jail for assault with intent to kill, and we never mention his name in the club out of respect for Wade. After Wade got out of the burn unit, he was welcomed back with open arms. He practically lives here because it’s the only place people don’t treat him bad for his scars. And now Tasha makes all subs, even those who were already here, pass tests and training, too. We have to be able to take back control without freaking out, just as much as the doms have to respect our limits and take care of us.” Bucky turned his eyes from the masked man back to his lover.

“Wow,” Steve almost couldn’t believe what he’d heard, “it’s very smart to give the subs training as well. Not many people think about how subs could hurt their doms just as easily as the doms hurting the subs.” 

“Well, when you’re in pain, you can lose your way, you know? We might like the pain, but each of us has our limits. His mistake was not starting slow with the fire. Wade had no clue the guy hadn’t done it before.” Bucky turned back to the office door. “Everyone gets training on how to use our words, how to talk to each other.”

Bucky gestured to the plain door with the very prominent _‘2’_ hung on it. All the other rooms had names or symbols. This was the only number in the entire place, a stark reminder of the seriousness of the rules and the purpose of the office. Bucky kissed Steve softly on the cheek. “You’ll do fine, Steve. Just be yourself.” He opened the door and gave Steve the tiniest smile to encourage him, not forcing him to enter; that was not Bucky’s way. The brunet firmly believed people had to make their own choices.

Stepping inside the office with a deep breath, Steve noted that the room was decorated in the same black and red as the main area. The walls were a dark, blood red; black crown molding lined the entire room. A large, mahogany desk sat in the middle of the room, the red undertones shining brightly in the dim lighting. Tall, black bookshelves lined one side wall; the shelves filled with various books and the blond could make out some different types of toys and bondadge equipment as well. On the other wall sat a plush, velvet lined couch.

On the wall hung several signs, plain black lettering on muted white backing and a neat clear printed font, in no way able to be misconstrued through design or color. One sign said _‘Degradation, not Disrespect’_ while another said _‘Love, Honor, and OBEY.’_ It was clear that this woman, Tasha, supported both sides of the kink and made sure everyone played by the same rules.

In the corner, draped casually over a leather wing-back chair, lounged a stocky blond man with grey-blue eyes, darker than Bucky’s. He wore a leather vest and pants, fingerless gloves, biker boots, and a smooth leather choker with a small ring dangling directly over his adam’s apple. He had a neat goatee framing his mouth. The outfit might have been stereotypical, but it looked good on the man. He didn’t say a word, but as soon as Steve entered the shorter blond slid off the chair and crawled, looking relaxed and comfortable, to the side of the seated redhead at the desk. The man nuzzled her hip lightly and murmured, “Mistress . . .” His voice was a smooth baritone, holding the promise of a singer’s training, while a rather visible bright purple hearing aid implanted in both of the man’s ears bespoke the difficulty a singer might have with hearing the music. With the information that a sub had been deafened in a previous bad encounter to go by, it was fairly evident that this must be the man, Clint, that Bucky had suggested might be in the office with the dungeon’s mistress . . . for despite Bucky referring to it by the innocuous term of _‘club,’_ there was no question this was a full blown BDSM Dungeon Steve had been invited to join; the first he’d ever had access to.

The woman ran her fingers through the sub’s hair, smiling fondly at the man, “Lucky, why don’t you go play with Bucky?”

Clint instantly crawled back to his chair, scooped up a leather lead from the chair cushion, using his mouth, and crawled to Bucky, who silently hooked the lead and led Clint from the room. As soon as the pair crossed the threshold, Clint stood and shut the door softly.

Steve stood near the edge of the desk, looking around the room with a controlled expression of awe. He’d read about BDSM clubs before, but he had never been inside one. No wonder Bucky liked it so much.

The redhead looked up at Steve and studied him, her eyes piercing, as if she could read his very soul, his every secret. When someone thought of a dom, they often thought of a person in skin-tight leather with a whip and a commanding, ordering tone. Natasha put that stereotype to shame. She didn’t need the costume or the implements to prove she was every inch in charge of her domain. “Sit,” she said softly.

Looking down at the woman, Steve nodded and slid into one of the wooden chairs set up in front of the desk. He straightened slightly and looked directly at the red-headed woman.

She watched him another long moment. Finally, she asked, “who are you?”

“Steve Rogers,” he answered quickly, knowing it wouldn’t do any good to withhold his full name. Steve had a feeling she probably already knew who he was the second he stepped into her office.

“No last names here, Steve . . . if that’s who you want to be.” She reached into her desk and pulled out a folder. Sliding it across the desk she asked, “who is your sponsor?”

“Bucky,” Steve responded, picking up the folder but not opening it yet. 

Nodding, she asked “How many dates have you had?” Something in the way she said _dates_ indicated she didn’t mean it the way Sharon would.

Clearing his throat, knowing the woman would probably prefer Steve and Bucky to have been on more _dates_ , the blond said, “one.” 

“Has Bucky told you the rules?” she asked, still softly, still casually, but her eyes still watchful.

“Some of them . . . he mentioned you test each member and never allow first dates to be here.” 

“That’s because you are not tested by me. You are tested by your sponsor before you are allowed in.” She stood and walked to her bookshelf, sliding a thin manual from the dark wood. “So, Bucky has tested you?”

“Yes,” Steve answered.

She turned and placed the manual on the desk, hand over the title and picture on the front. “And can you tell me how you felt when the test ended?”

“Well, relieved that I hadn’t unintentionally hurt Bucky was my first reaction . . . but then I understood why he had to do it. A sub needs to trust their dom . . . and I was happy to have, hopefully, earned that trust from him.” 

She nodded. “Very neat, pretty answer. Now answer the question. How did you _feel_.” Obviously this was another test, one Bucky hadn’t told him about.

“Uh . . .” Steve shifted slightly in his chair and rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of the answer. “I mean, obviously I was a little shocked . . . and I’d really wanted release.”

At those words, Natasha seemed satisfied. She uncovered the manual, which was entitled, _‘Caring for you sub.’_ “So, you really were tested,” she casually said.

“Yeah?” Steve looked a little confused. 

“I’ve had the occasional applicant lie about the test, Steve. Only a true recipient of the test would know how physically painful it is to pass that specific test I set. Naturally, a woman receives a different test, but you certainly seem to have passed the man’s test.” She slid the manual over to him. “Have you ever kept a sub before, Steve?”

“No, not longer than for a night,” Steve stated, taking the manual.

She nodded, “so the answer is you’ve never kept one. You’ve played only.” She sat back down. “The manual is yours to keep. If you cannot keep it at home, you may keep it here among your things. You will be assigned a closet for anything you wish to leave here, such as costumes if you use them. The folder has our specific rules and regulations, as well as preliminary training material. Until you have taken the training classes, which run two hours minimum, you may not use the facilities for any play. You may eat and relax, but not play. Do you understand?”

“Yes, of course,” Steve answered with a nod. He was actually excited to be able to learn how to better take care of Bucky . . . he wanted to make sure he did things right, since the brunet was already sacrificing a lot for him.

“I will let you tour the dungeon today and you may try out the new spa with Bucky’s attendance, but you must treat it like you would any publicly televised spa in your other world. Until your training, that means suit on, hands off. If you need a suit, we have a wide variety you may purchase at a reasonable fee.” Natasha stood and pulled out another folder, taking out a piece of paper. “Our membership agreement, Steve. Your signature is required for legal reasons, but part of it also states we may not use this against you in anyway. This agreement protects us both. Has Bucky mentioned the dues for the dungeon?”

Taking the piece of paper, Steve skimmed it over quickly and shook his head, “no, he didn’t mention the dues.” 

“I run a business offering freedom for my members. This costs fees, as you can understand. The fees are up front. You pay for a certain amount of time. If your payment is not received on time, you are not permitted to enter the dungeon until you pay again. In your folder it mentions the fees and payment schedules.” Natasha looked at Steve, still perfectly business minded. She had never smiled once. “This first day, as you are a guest, you are not expected to pay.”

Looking over the agreement again, Steve nodded; the document clearly laid out everything that Natasha had said. The legal parameters protected both Steve and the club; the blond nearly sighed in relief. Taking a pen from from the desk, he signed his name along the dotted line. The idea that Steve could truly be himself in this safe, secluded environment was intoxicating. And the thought that he would be able to be himself _with_ Bucky was even more enthralling. 

For the first time, the red-haired woman smiled, a soft fleeting expression. Standing, she moved to a locked safe and opened it, but her body very effectively blocked him from seeing the numbers she used. She put the signed paper in and turned. “Upon your first payment, you will have full use of the dungeon. What name would you like?”

Steve seemed to ponder the question for a few moments, finally he said, “Captain.”

“You wish everyone to call you that?” Natasha asked, but did not seem derisive in the least.

Narrowing his eyes in thought, Steve shook his head, “no . . . Bucky only calls me that.”

“And I am the only one who calls Clint _‘Lucky.’_ What do you want patrons and staff members to call you? Bucky isn’t his real name, it’s his dungeon name . . .” Natasha waited patiently, her safe still open but blocked. “However, Wade and Clint are their real names.”

“I’ll go by Steve then,” he shrugged softly. 

“Welcome home, Steve.” She shut the safe and armed it, the action entirely symbolic of his finally arriving in a secure place. “Let Bucky know you have a guest pass today. Your folder will tell you how to arrange payment to your dues. Other than that, enjoy the tour and relax.”

“Thank you,” Steve gave the woman a kind, almost relieved smile. 

“You can call me Tasha.” She smiled, and the look was almost mischief. “It’s _my_ dungeon name. Remember, no playing before your training. For safety sake. You can ask Bucky if he hasn’t already explained why.”

“Of course,” Steve nodded, “thank you again, Tasha.”

“Oh, send my dog back in,” she said almost absently as Natasha slid back into her chair with a grace born of years of athletic training.

After the meeting had ended, Steve grabbed his manual and the file containing his copy of the legal agreement and the list of the club’s rules and regulations. Tucking the book and folder under one arm, Steve stood and walked out of the office, giving Natasha a respectful nod before shutting the door behind him. 

Clint stood right outside the door, leaning on the will casually, but obviously protectively guarding his mistress’s domain. He didn’t offer a smile to Steve, merely looked at him. Softly, he asked “you home?”

“I am,” Steve said honestly; nothing felt more like the truth.

The man offered a smile at that, and his eyes lit with the same mischief as the head dominatrix. “She want her dog?” he asked, sounding eager, like a labrador might.

Nodding, Steve offered the smaller blond a smile, “she does.”

He nodded, still smiling. “I’m a one woman dog, you understand?” He walked to the door and put his hand on the knob, bunching his leash in the other hand, though it was still hooked to his collar. “Your sub is in the Aqua Room.” He slid the leash into his mouth, opened the door, and dropped to his knees and hands, crawling in with an eager, welcoming whine, letting the door shut behind him.

Steve had no idea where the Aqua Room was, but he figured if he walked around enough he’d be able to find it or find someone that he could ask. 

As he searched for Bucky, Steve was able to get a better look at the club. Sunlight from the early morning sunrise poured in from a few skylights, painting the entire room in a soft glow. Along the furthest right wall sat an expansive wooden bar with glass shelves stacked high with various types of hard liquor, the colorful glass from the bottles sparkling in the low light. The dining tables were all black wood with a single candle and red rose in the center. Steve noticed that each table had a metal ring hanging from one of the edges.

The large stage, black floor gleaming spotlessly, barren except for a single chair and side table, had blood red, velvet drapes hanging from the ceiling, along the perimeter. The curtains were not obtrusive to the guests watching from the tables but they did frame the stage nicely. 

Steve could see a long hallway leading from the main area, the corridor lined with closed doors. The blond assumed these were mostly likely private rooms that the guests could enjoy. There was another hallway off the bar, a sign above the doorway read _‘Themed Rooms.’_ Figuring that the Aqua Room would most likely be down that way, Steve walked down the corridor looking at each door.

The very end of the corridor housed a double door, indicating a larger space taking up the entire end of the wing. In bright aquamarine lettering, in a curled script design, a sign read _‘Aqua.’_ The faint smell of water and oils came from beyond the door.

Smiling softly, Steve opened the door and stepped inside the steamy, humid room, which turned out to be a full spa.

Stretched out on a table, dressed only in a robe and reading a small manual much like Steve’s, though titled _‘How to care for your Dom,’_ Bucky looked up and smiled widely. “You home, darlin’?”

A shiver ran down Steve’s spine; he honestly didn’t think he’d ever get sick of hearing that word leave Bucky’s mouth, “yeah, I am. This place is incredible, Buck. Thank you for bringing me.”

Grinning, sitting up, Bucky looked around. “Yeah, I’m glad Tasha did this.” He smiled at Steve. “Need me to cover your dues, darlin’?” The brunet rose gracefully from his lounging table.

Quirking a brow, Steve smirked; he knew he could afford the dues . . . no matter how much they were. He’d use one of his accounts that Sharon had no access to, of course, but the simple fact that Bucky was offering to pay for Steve’s dues made him smile. Obviously, the brunet had no intention of using Steve for his money. “No, baby, I think I can swing it. Thank you for offering though.”

Laughing, Bucky nodded. “Well, we need to keep our hands off until you figure things out financially, but Tasha finally had the spa finished if you want a full pampered treatment for your guest tour?”

Glancing down at his watch, Steve sighed and shook his head, “don’t think I have time for a full pampering today, baby.” Though the offer was quite tempting.

“Another day. Want a tour of the dungeon?” Now that Steve was pretty much a member, Bucky called it by it’s real designation.

“Sure,” Steve smiled.


	5. Fractures

Two weeks passed by in a blur: Steve would go to work, staying late until he could take a cab over to Crown Heights to visit with Bucky at work, and then the two of them would either go to the club or back to Bucky’s apartment; then Steve would go back home, sleep for a few hours while trying to avoid Sharon as much as possible, before starting over again the next day.

Steve couldn’t get enough of Bucky, the way the brunet gasped and squirmed under his touch. Bucky’s sweet, addicting laugh . . . head tossing back in pure, unadulterated joy. Steve worked every day to hear that laugh; that saccharine sound always brought a wide smile to his face and caused his heart to swell in adoration.

He had taken the basic class at the club, learning how to care and love his sub, his Bucky. _‘My Lady’s Chamber’_ had been a godsend, Steve felt so free . . . so carefree in the space. He was able to kiss and touch Bucky wherever he wanted without having to worry about someone seeing.

Steve sat behind his desk, the floor to ceiling windows behind him spotted with rain and showing the gloomy skyline of the city. He looked over the proposal for a deal with a large, nationwide coffee brand. The marketing would be a big load for Shield Inc. to take on but with the merger with Stark Industries they should be able to swing it.

Tapping his pen lightly against the paper, Steve jumped slightly when the intercom on his desk buzzed loudly. “Steve . . . Sharon’s here, she’s says it’s urgent,” Sam Wilson’s voice rang out, Sam had been Steve’s assistant for three years, and Steve regarded the man as one of his closest friends.

Sighing, Steve dropped his pen, closed the file containing the proposal and pressed a button on the phone, “alright, send her in, then. Thank you, Sam.”

Just as Steve stood and smoothed down the front of his suit, Sharon walked in, her heels clicking against the hard tile. Her blond hair was pulled up in a sleek ponytail and she wore a bright red dress that hugged her body in all the right places. “Ah, so my boyfriend _is_ alive. I wouldn’t have guessed, considering I have seen him hardly at all for the last two weeks.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Steve shook his head, “Sam said it was urgent, Sharon. You know I’m busy at work . . . with the merger and new clients pouring in . . . I’ve had to stay late.”

“Every night?” Sharon asked, her eyes searching her boyfriend’s face. “Tell Nick to ease up on your workload then, he can’t honestly expect you to work eighty plus hours a week. You’ll exhaust yourself.”

“As COO, I am expected to work long weeks . . . I will not ask Nick for help, because I can handle it.” Steve let his hand drop to his side and looked back up at his girlfriend. “I’m sorry you’ve been feeling left out . . . but you know how swamped I can get at work.”

Sharon did not look convinced; she crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head, a cold look in her eyes. “I’m getting tired of playing these games, Steve. I have been more than understanding when it comes to your,” she grimaced, eyes falling down the length of Steve’s body, “situation. But enough is enough . . . is there someone else? At least man up and tell me the truth.”

Steve’s eyes hardened and he hissed, “not here, Sharon! We will talk later, okay? But right now, I want you out of my office.”

Narrowing her eyes, Sharon snapped, “fine. But I will find out what’s causing you to act so distant, Steve.” She turned on her heels and walked out of the office, her head held high and body straight with determination.

Letting the door shut behind her, Steve shook his head and pulled out his phone, dialing Bucky’s number. The brunet had given Steve his phone number right before leaving the dungeon two weeks ago.

Upon answering the phone, the brunet’s voice came out raspy and sexy deep from sleep. “Hello?”

Walking over to the window, Steve watched as the rain seemed to pick up, a flash of lightning in the distance, “I’m sorry, baby, did I wake you?”

Instead of answering that question, Bucky asked one of his own. “Are you alone?”

“Yeah . . . I needed to hear your voice,” Steve mumbled honestly.

“Then I’m your mistress, and I love it when you wake me up, darlin’,” Bucky purred back, his voice still rasping.

A jolt of pleasure ran down Steve’s spine just as a loud clap of thunder shook the window, “you doin’ anything tonight?”

“Night off,” Bucky answered promptly. “And horney as hell but willing to just listen if you want, Cap.”

“No, I need my boy tonight,” Steve raised one hand to touch the cool glass.

“Want me at the apartment or at home, darlin’?” Bucky asked.

“Apartment,” Steve answered, “I want you all to myself tonight.”

“Great, I’ll kick Brock out. How long do I have?” he chuckled, his voice clearing the more he spoke.

Smiling at the sound Steve loved so much, the blond laughed and lowered his hand, “I’ll be leaving in an hour. So I should be there in an hour and a half.”

“Want me open? Already cum once so it lasts longer? Whatcha need, Cap? Your Sarge is reporting for _full_ duty . . . and if I did something bad, I’m ready to own up.” Bucky offered Steve a variety of choices.

Moaning quietly, Steve’s member twitched in excitement and anticipation, “open yourself up for me . . . no cumming until I get there, you understand?” The blond’s voice had taken on a low growl.

“And if I do?” Bucky challenged, testing to see if Steve was in a punishment mood or just a loving one.

Growling, Steve turned away from the window just as another flash lit up the sky, “I’d be _forced_ to punish you, baby. You know that. I can’t have my Sergeant disobeying direct orders.”

“Yes, sir. No cummng,” Bucky purred back, a hint of mischief in his tone, promising he would find a way to disobey so Steve could take control.

“The things you do to me, baby,” Steve groaned, his erection straining against the fabric of his trousers.

“I’ll be waiting, and no Brock, darlin’, try not to let the numbers get to ya over there. If you’re late, I’ll be here.” Bucky’s voice held love and warmth.

“See you soon,” Steve hung up the phone and walked back over to his desk to finish looking over the proposal.

***********

Pulling on the robe over his nudity, Bucky smiled and headed out to the main room. He grinned as he noted Brock watching TV and eating what might be a microwave dinner. Leaning over the back of Brock’s chair, Bucky kissed his head. “Want me to give you dinner money so you and Jack can watch the game at the bar?”

Swallowing the bite he’d already taken, Brock looked up at the younger man, “you kickin’ me out?”

“Yup,” Bucky said happily. “Steve’s had a rough day and wants me to himself.” In a sing-song voice, Bucky added merrily, “there’s gonna be a spankin’.”

Standing up, shaking his head, Brock walked into the small kitchen and dumped the rest of his meal into the trash, “First off . . . ew, don’t wanna hear that shit. Second, I still don’t like the guy. He uses you, Bucky . . . in the bad way.”

Sighing, Bucky stood. “He’s been good for me, Brock.”

“You’re his fuckin’ mistress, Bucky!” Brock growled, throwing his arms in the air.

“Yeah, kinky huh?” Bucky grinned.

“Don’t act like you’re completely fine with the idea of sharing the guy. I know you.” Brock crossed his arms over his chest and stared at his friend intently.

The smile dropped and Bucky sighed, putting his hand to his forehead. Finally he drew it back down. “Look, Brock, he’s already seen one guy outed at the office get fired on trumped up charges. He’s not ready to take that leap. Can you blame him?”

“How long are you willing to wait? What if he’s never ready? You always gonna be the side dish?” Brock asked.

“Well, with the amount of time he’s been with me? I think his girl’s the side dish. I don’t doubt there’s a nasty break up on the horizon, Brock, but that’s Steve’s mess to deal with. I’m just here for him when he needs me.” Bucky shrugged and smiled, though this time it was forced.

“You aren’t thinking with your head, kid. Your heart is too fuckin’ big for your own good. You aren’t dealing with normal people here . . . these are rich, manipulative asshats. You’re gonna get hurt!”

Bucky finally snapped, looking directly at Brock; he’d been hearing this shit for two weeks from his friend and roommate. “I don’t care. Whatever I can get, I’ll take, Brock. I _need_ him!”

Brock shook his head and headed towards the front door, grabbing his thick coat from the hook by the door, wrenching it open, the rain pouring off the awning and hitting the asphalt with a soft patter.

“Brock . . .” Bucky’s voice sounded pleading, hurt. “I love him.”

Sighing, Brock looked down and nodded, “I know, kid. I know . . . I - - I just don’t wanna see you hurt. This guy is gonna hurt you.”

“The person that can be hurt by this, Brock, is _him_. It’s his career and lifestyle on the line. But he knows that. I just wanna be here to help ease his burden . . . and, yeah, pick up the pieces in the aftermath when it happens. I’m selfish. I want all of him, but I’ll let him make his mistakes in his own time.” Bucky held up both hands in a gesture for understanding.

Brock shook his head again and slipped on his coat, grabbing his keys from the small table by the front door.

“Brock, he’s the first guy who passed his test with me,” Bucky said softly, knowing Brock didn’t like to hear about the kink but needing his roommate to understand. “The _only_ one who stopped when I needed him to.”

“I hope I’m wrong,” Brock said softly, “I hope this guy is everything you think he is. I get the test is important . . . I do.”

“Brock, it’s a test to make sure that when I say stop, no matter how gone he is, he will stop.” Bucky shrugged. “It’s life and death.”

Running his hand through his short brown hair, Brock sighed and nodded, “alright, fine. I’ll shut my trap. Imma be at the bar with Jack if ya need anything.”

Bucky launched himself with amazing speed at the shorter man and wrapped his arms around him. The taller brunet planted a kiss on the darker man’s cheek, beaming, and said, “I love you so much, Brock! Thank you!”

Smiling fondly, Brock pressed his lips to Bucky’s hair and said, “yeah, yeah . . . love you, too, kid. Now I’m gonna get outta your hair so you can get ready or whatever weird shit you need to do.”

Bucky stepped back, practically vibrating with energy. “Same as for any _normal_ date: right clothes, right props . . .”

“La la la . . . not listening!” Brock shouted as he stepped outside, shoving his hands into his pockets and walking down the fire escape.

Bucky’s laugh followed the man from the apartment and into the storm. He left the door unlocked behind Brock so Steve could get in. Turning, Bucky headed for the bathroom to get cleaned up. He had some decadent plans to put in motion to make the evening especially good for his Captain. First, of course, would be an anal plug to loosen himself up . . . then a good masturbation to misbehave that direct order. Steve had sounded like he really needed to take control, and Bucky would give him that opportunity.

He had already started the shower when the landline rang. Frowning, Bucky let the water run and went to answer it. “Hello? Rumlow and Barnes.”

“Stop corrupting men, or you’ll end up like your brother.”

The voice on the other end was unfamiliar, but the words chilled Bucky to the bone. It had been three years since his brother had been murdered in a park . . . a known gay walk. Bucky never talked about that part of his life, the horror, the self doubt, even the guilt. If he hadn’t encouraged his brother to take the jump and explore his interests, maybe George would still be around. If Tasha hadn’t invited him to see her burgeoning dungeon, Bucky might still be lost in the aftermath of George’s very publicly announced death.

Slowly, after the man had finished, the brunet hung up the phone. All thoughts of playing had swept far from his mind.

The brunet flipped off every light in the apartment, turning off the shower as he passed, and sank down into his bed, forgetting the unlocked fire door in the process. Leaning over the edge he pulled out the bottom drawer, the only one no one, not even Steve, ever saw into. Pulling out the small teddy bear, Bucky curled up on his bed and lost himself in thought and fear, his body trembling harder and harder as the minutes dragged by. Until, finally, the normally self-assured, carefree brunet began to cry, great body-wracking sobs tearing through his lean frame.

He was drowning, and he needed a lifeline . . . and he couldn’t think how to grasp one.


	6. Stealing the Power

Opening the apartment door, slightly surprised at it being unlocked in the first place, Steve stepped into the living room. Blinking several times to get used to the dark room, Steve tentatively called out as he stripped off his coat, “Buck? Baby? You here?” He hung his wet jacket on one of the hooks by the front door.

No answer came from the apartment. Steve had never seen it without any light before; Bucky usually left a small nightlight on in front of the bathroom so no one tripped in the night: even that was off.

A nervous pounding formed in his chest; careful to avoid knocking into any furniture, Steve began to walk towards Bucky’s bedroom; pushing the door open, he called out carefully, “Bucky?”

A soft whimper sounded as he opened Bucky’s door. It came from the bed, muffled.

Crossing into the room, crouching in front of the bed, careful to miss the still opened drawer, even in the dark, Steve could see Bucky had been crying. “Bucky? Bucky, what happened?” He began to run his fingers through the brunet’s hair, eyes worried for his lover. Bucky had sounded like his normal self over the phone . . . what the hell happened?

“I . . . I shouldn’t have . . .” he sobbed, hugging the bear tighter.

“Oh, baby,” Steve shifted onto the bed and scooped up his lover, holding him close to his chest. “What happened, baby?”

“George,” he sobbed, turning and burying himself, almost burrowing, against Steve. He let the bear go with one hand and wrapped his arm around Steve tightly. “My fault . . . sorry . . .”

“George?” Steve asked softly, hand running down Bucky’s spine while the other continued to stroke the brunet locks.

“Baby . . . George,” he sobbed, nodding, nuzzling into his protector’s neck, needing Steve to make things better, make the evil disappear.

“Hey, baby, take deep breaths . . . c’mon,” Steve cooed, voice so gentle and loving, “in and out, baby. Deep breaths.”

After several long, sob-filled, minutes, Bucky finally shuddered harshly and stilled, crying silenced. Slowly, his voice emerged, rasping and raw, from Steve’s neck. “My brother George was murdered three years ago today,” Bucky said, voice close to tears still. “It was my fault . . .”

“Your fault?” Steve asked, cupping Bucky’s face and running his thumbs over the trails of tears, caressing the damp, stubbled skin.

“Yeah.” Letting out a deep sigh, Bucky whispered, “turn on the light, Steve, and I’ll show you.”

Getting up, Steve walked over to the door where Bucky’s light switch was, turning on the light. Steve had to blink a few times to get used to the sudden change. After his vision had cleared, the blond could clearly see the bear in Bucky’s arms, bottom drawer under the bed open, newspaper clippings and photos in the drawer. The brunet looked wrecked, eyes red and puffy, hair disheveled and cheeks still shining with tear tracks.

Steve moved back over to the bed and sat down next to Bucky, waiting until the brunet was ready to speak again.

Bucky cuddled the bear once more, his eyes stormy with dark emotions. He nodded his chin to the open drawer. “There.”

Leaning over to grab what Bucky had been gesturing towards, Steve gasped softly. The stack of photos were graphic, apparently crime scene photos of a teenaged boy slashed and bloody, the word _‘Faggot’_ carved across his thin chest. The news articles were about the _‘gay bashing’_ of a sixteen year old boy three years ago in a local Brooklyn park - - a boy named George Barnes, Junior.

“Oh, Bucky,” Steve said softly, shuffling through the photos, “I’m so sorry.”

Leaning into Steve, practically burrowing once more, Bucky gasped, “someone . . . someone called. Said I’d be just like him.”

“What?” Steve asked, voice hardening with fear. “When?”

“Uh . . .” Bucky lifted confused, haunted eyes. “Maybe ten minutes after you called? Brock had just gone to the bar and I was gonna get a shower.” He shuddered, but his voice steadied as he spoke to Steve about his greatest fear, certain Steve would help make things better somehow.

Wrapping his arms around Bucky again, pulling him into a tight hug, Steve kissed the brunet’s temple. “I won’t let anyone hurt you,” the blond breathed against the other man’s skin.

Bucky whimpered.

“Do you want to call the police? File a report?” Steve asked gently, still hugging his lover. Who would threaten Bucky like this? Everyone who knew Bucky loved him.

Nodding, Bucky let Steve take charge. “Not sure what they can do, Steve,” he said softly, hugging the bear.

“They can try and track the number . . . figure out who called?” Steve felt helpless; he didn’t know what to do or how to help.

Nodding in agreement, Bucky breathed out slowly. “Okay, yeah, that makes sense.” He leaned his forehead against Steve’s chest. “I can do that.”

Running his fingers down Bucky’s spine, Steve asked, “do you want me to go to the station with you?”

“Would that be risky for you?” Bucky asked softly, even in his distress looking out for his lover.

“I’m not sure, honestly. But I need to make sure you’re alright,” Steve sighed, hating how his situation impacted Bucky.

“I can go home I guess, maybe get Tasha to help? Then you don’t have to worry about stray reporters trolling around the station?” Bucky looked up, eyes more grey than blue.

Letting out a deep breath, Steve caressed the side of his lover’s face, his blue eyes worried and guilty. He couldn’t even go to a police station with a man he cared about because he was a coward. “I still think you should go to the station . . . maybe have Tasha take you?”

Nodding, Bucky straightened up and offered a watery little smile to his lover. “I’ll have Tasha go with me, Steve. It’s okay.” He unfolded his body to stand and carefully, tenderly, put his bear back in the drawer, straightening the articles and photographs before sliding the drawer shut with care.

Standing back up, Steve ran a hand through his hair, making a decision . . . regardless of the consequences, “no . . . I wanna go with you. I don’t give a damn about reporters . . . I care about you.”

Looking up from his crouch at Steve, Bucky stayed quiet, studying the man’s face, his eyes. Finally, the brunet nodded and launched himself at his lover, hugging him tight. “I love you, Steve.”

Gasping softly, Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky, hugging the man tight and kissing his neck tenderly. After a moment, the blond nodded and whispered, “I love you, too, baby.” The words were genuine . . . filled with emotion and adoration.

Bucky pulled back slowly, his face wreathed in his bright smile, even though his eyes remained haunted. “Let me get dressed and we can go right now?”

“Yeah, dress warm, baby . . . it’s getting really cold,” Steve kissed Bucky’s lips, this kiss unlike any of the others they’d shared. This one wasn’t lustful or playful . . . this kiss was gentle, filled with love.

With a whimper, Bucky returned the kiss, slipping his hand into Steve’s hair, tilting his head to seal their mouths, but not trying to change the kiss, showing his love as much as Steve showed his. Finally, the brunet pulled away, eyes shining, despite the deep fear still lingering. “Gonna dress warm,” he assured his lover and turned to pull out clothing and a thick winter jacket Steve hadn’t seen his lover wear, though it had hung in the closet quite clearly.

“I want to be with you, baby, always,” Steve admitted, his voice tight with emotion and a little fear, “I’m done hiding. I don’t want anyone else.”

Bucky put down the coat to stroke Steve’s cheek. “Think that one through carefully, Stevie. This hater that called? There’s a lot more like him out there. You already said that your office is crawling with them.” With a sigh, Bucky shook his head and pulled some briefs on. “Don’t want you losing so much you begin to hate yourself and then us.” He looked up as he grabbed his trousers.

Steve shook his head and swallowed hard, he ran his hand through his hair and said, “I could _never_ hate us.”

Nodding, Bucky slipped the trousers up over his lean hips and fastened them adding a belt to keep them from sliding right back down. He tugged on a long-sleeved deep blue henley. “Okay, why don’t we report this then worry about whether you want to out after, okay?” Bucky offered a smile, feeling much more in control now that Steve was there to lean on if he needed to.

Offering his hand to Bucky, Steve nodded and said, “yeah, okay. I actually brought my car . . . I was in a hurry to see you.”

“God, I’m glad the movies lie about the vandalism that happens to cars just sitting outside apartments,” Bucky groaned softly. He grabbed the coat and put it on, sighing into its warmth. “Okay, let’s get this over with. I’ve never had a hate threat before.” He shuddered and stepped closer to his lover, taking the offered hand.

Leading the brunet out of the room, Steve grabbed his own coat, hanging it over his other arm and opened the front door. The rain hadn’t lessened and the thunder and lighting seemed closer.

“Oh, gotta lock the fire escape, let me get my key. I’m so rattled,” Bucky turned and grabbed his phone, wallet, and keys, not seeing the car parked across the street, the man sitting inside watching the apartment building or the expensive car or _something_ in their direction. Finally, Bucky turned and smiled vaguely up at Steve. “Ready, Captain,” he breathed.

“C’mon, baby,” Steve cooed and wrapped his arm around Bucky’s waist, ushering the smaller man to his luxury sedan. “Your chariot awaits,” the blond performed an exaggerated bow as he unlocked the car and opened the passenger door.

“How luxurious,” Bucky breathed, smiling wider at Steve. He slid in and fastened his belt immediately.

Hurrying over to the driver’s side door, Steve started the car, turning on the seat heaters and fastening his own seatbelt. “You okay, baby?” The blond asked as he put the car in drive, pulling out of the cramped alleyway.

“Yeah,” Bucky smiled at Steve. “Green, Cap,” he said softly.

“Good,” Steve nodded, smiling softly, “where’s the nearest station, Buck?”

Bucky told him how to get to the precinct and relaxed, letting Steve have control, thankful he’d found a man who’d take care of him outside of the bedroom as much as in.

Several minutes later, Steve pulled into the busy precinct parking lot. After finding a spot, Steve parked the car and looked over at his lover, “ready?”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded, letting out a shaky, soft breath he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding since pulling in front of the building. “Last time I was in here was to report Pietro’s bashing.” He unbuckled himself and opened his door.

Getting out, Steve rushed over to Bucky’s side and helped his lover out of the car, wrapping his arm around the brunet’s back; high enough to be considered friendly but still intimate nonetheless.

Bucky leaned into Steve thankfully then straightened, but didn’t make him remove his comforting arm. Giving Steve a smile, Bucky stepped into the police office with the blond. At the counter, the brunet cleared his throat and said, “I’d like to report a threatening phone call, but I’m not sure how much good it’ll do, sir.”

A young officer behind the counter looked up at the pair with a quirked brow, he pointed to the waiting area, packed full with other people, “you’ll have to wait until you’re called. Name?”

“James Buchanan Barnes, sir. Do you have the paperwork? I can start on it while I wait?” Bucky offered a small but obviously nervous smile, his eyes still haunted.

Jotting down the name on the long list in front of him, the officer reached over to his side and grabbed a clipboard, a pen dangling from a chain attached to the top. “Sure thing, kid. It’ll be a few hours.” He passed the clipboard, a stack of papers stuck firmly on it, to the brunet.

“Thank you so much, officer. I won’t keep you from your work. This place seems to be worse than an emergency room,” Bucky’s voice was sympathetic through his own worries. He took the proffered items and walked into the waiting room to sink onto the floor, leaving the only open chair for Steve.

“I’ll stand, Bucky, you go on and take the chair,” Steve said quietly.

“I feel more . . . comfortable . . . down here, Cap,” Bucky said softly, indicating his need to feel like Steve was the one in control. If the blond told him again, Bucky would obey, but he wanted Steve to know he felt the need to be the one in the protected position. He was still pretty shaken up despite his calm demeanor. He began filling in the form in a neat, small print, denoting someone trained to communicate on paper.

Nodding, Steve sank into the open chair, knee bouncing nervously, and looked around the room with apprehension. He’d never been to a police station before. The blond mindlessly began to run his fingers through Bucky’s hair, needing to touch and feel his lover. Steve began to let his mind wander as Bucky filled out the form. He wanted to come out of hiding; he wanted to be free . . . but was he ready for all the consequences that came with that decision?

It took hours before the policeman called for Bucky to come in. Easing out of his uncomfortable seated position, Bucky smiled at Steve, eyes apprehensive once more. “Coming in? Please?”

“Anything you want, baby,” the pet name slipped before Steve could even think to stop himself, too far gone in his thoughts to be concerned about being in a public place. Standing up, the blond stretched his arms overhead to loosen his stiff spine.

The pair were led to a private room where a cop waited to take their statement. Taking a breath, Bucky slid into one of the chairs and handed over the form. “As I wrote in my statement, officer, I don’t recognize the man’s voice, but I think it might have something to do with my brother’s unsolved murder from three years ago. It’s the anniversary. The guy on the phone said “stop corrupting men or you’ll wind up like your brother.” It’s the same kind of words a female friend of mine uses because she’s mad about me helping her brother, but I don’t think she’d do this.”

Nodding the detective jotted down what Bucky said; the man looked tired but focused on what the brunet told him. “Have you received any other threats before this one?”

“No, never, not even during the investigation. This . . .” Bucky sighed, “this one is definitely out of the blue. You see, I’m gay and have been helping other gay men find the courage to take their freedom? I know I have the legal right to my preferences, but I know some people can’t accept it still, even with all the laws and stuff passing.” Bucky ran his hand through his hair. “I’m wondering if this has to do with my activism or George’s . . . murder.”

“More likely than not . . . even if they did mention your brother - - this doesn’t have anything to do with that case. Especially if you haven’t received any threats before this one.” The older detective finally looked up at the pair.

Nodding, Bucky sighed. “So, it’s most likely not the murderer? He wasn’t caught because there was so little evidence and no witnesses.” Bucky had been through hell trying to come to terms that a murderer had gotten away with such a brutal act, and could do it again if he chose. At least, the brunet didn’t blame the cops; they’d tried their best for his brother.

“Most likely not,” the man repeated, “I would venture to say it’s one of those activist groups just wanting to scare you. I’d recommend changing your phone number to avoid more harassing phone calls.”

Letting out a nervous chuckle, his calm collected demeanour falling away to reveal the scared young man he was, Bucky nodded. “Yeah? They succeeded big time, officer. I locked myself in my room until my friend showed up to check on me.”

Looking to Steve, the detective frowned, “I’d assumed you were his boyfriend.”

Bucky shook his head. “He’s got a long time girlfriend, but he’d be a real catch if he was free.” The brunet smiled. “He just knows that I’m a touching kind of guy and need the tactile to stay in the now.” The words were true but used to keep Steve’s secret.

Steve looked at Bucky and then back at the detective, “yeah . . . we’re just friends.”

Nodding the officer scratched something out before adding a new line of notes.

“But he is a boy and he is my friend, so I wouldn’t be insulted if you logged him as my boyfriend,” Bucky lightly teased, though the experienced cop could hear the nerves and lingering fear in the man’s voice.

“Well, sadly, without a physical threat there isn’t a whole lot we can do . . .”

“You can’t trace the call?” Bucky sighed and nodded. “Okay. I understand. Do you guys have a number limit before you’re allowed to get involved? I mean, in case it happens again, how many times do I have to report it before you’re legally allowed to investigate? Or does it have to be a physical, hands on attack before your hands aren’t tied?”

Quirking a brow, the detective shook his head, “you didn’t let me finish, Mr. Barnes. I will be tracking the call . . . more likely than not they used a disposable cell, but it never hurts to look. Like I said, I highly recommend you change your phone number, if they can’t reach you anymore . . . they’ll probably just give up . . . move on to the next target.”

Nodding, Bucky said, “I’ll have to talk to my roommate, Brock. He’s halfsies on the phone and would have to change his info, too, if he agrees.”

Sliding a card over to Bucky, the detective continued, “if you receive any more threats . . . please call me. No matter how insignificant you might think it is . . . these things can escalate rather fast.” 

Bucky took the card and immediately held out his right hand. “Thank you, so much, officer, for taking time to hear me out.”

Giving the young brunet a kind smile and shaking the offered hand, the detective nodded, “my son is gay, I know how hard it is for you guys. No one deserves to be threatened, especially over something they have no control over. Love is love, right?”

“Well, tell him from me that he needs to keep his head up. He’s not the one who’s wrong. It’s the haters who fear change that are wrong.” Bucky smiled his sweet smile and stood, Steve following suit. “And I’m glad he has someone to support him. That means more than he’ll let you know, sir.”

“Name’s Frank Castle. I’m serious, don’t hesitate to call,” Frank walked over to the door and held it open for the two men.

Nodding, Bucky slid the card into his wallet. “I don’t intend to hold back, Officer Castle. Tonight I was lost in my head, but I intend to work on that.” The brunet offered Steve a smile and led the way from the room.

Walking back to the car, Steve’s phone began to ring; pulling it out, he unlocked the car. “Hello?” The blond opened Bucky’s door and then walked over to his own, “sorry, Sharon . . . I got caught up at the office,” he offered his lover an apologetic look before sliding into the car.

Bucky sighed, hating how Steve felt the need to lie to Sharon. Yeah, the brunet was the dirty little secret, but he figured taking a friend to the cops for help would rank some truth. Bucky got in and buckled up, not showing his disapproval to Steve. This was his lover’s mess. Bucky would, as he told Brock, be there to help pick up the pieces after everything blew up in the blond’s gorgeous face.

“What do you mean you’re at the office?” Steve’s voice hardened and he slammed his door shut. “No . . . Sharon, stop!” The blond hissed, tightening one hand around the steering wheel, “go home . . . you know better than to just go to my office!” After a pause, Sharon’s voice could be heard shouting but the words were incomprehensible, “I don’t care! Go home! I said we’d talk later!”

Bucky never offered a word of advice or excuse. He merely sat, quietly and patiently, the good sub. He knew his lover would need to be in control of something with the rest of his life falling apart. So, Bucky chose to be what Steve could control. And he started by not challenging the man’s decisions at the moment. Instead, he pulled out his copy of the police report and reread it silently.

Voice lowering to a near threatening growl, Steve said, “I’ll be home later. Do not show up at my office again without my permission.” With that, the blond ended the call and shoved the phone back in his pocket, his blue eyes blazing and hand still gripping the wheel tightly.

Quietly, Bucky refolded his report and slid it into his pocket. He offered the blond his sweet smile without a single comment, waiting, giving Steve time.

After several deep breaths, Steve looked over at his lover, “you hungry?”

“Yes, sir,” he answered, still smiling.

“Good,” Steve said firmly with a nod, “you feel like going out or want something at the apartment?” 

“Why don’t we go home and order a private room, Cap?” he offered. Private rooms were included in their membership, after all. And Steve could have the opportunity of leading Bucky in amongst the crowd, showing his dominance, before they got to their room. The blond had never gotten to spend more than a few hours in the freedom of the dungeon; maybe a night there was what he needed most.

With another nod, jaw clenched tight, Steve pulled out of the still packed, parking lot and began in the direction of the club.


	7. Taking Control

Luckily, traffic wasn’t bad and they made it to _My Lady’s Chamber_ within a few minutes. Steve hadn’t said a word the entire drive. 

Bucky sat patiently, after unbuckling himself, to let Steve control their date. If the man wanted Bucky to do all the work, he would, but the brunet had the feeling Steve wanted to guide their encounter, feel the power he was lacking in his real life.

Getting out of the car, Steve walked over to Bucky’s side and opened it, offering his hand to his lover.

Bucky held out his hand for Steve to assist him, offering his smile. “Thank you, sir,” he breathed as he straightened beside the other man.

Wrapping his arm around Bucky’s waist, hand tightening on the brunet’s hip, pulling him close, Steve led them into the club.

The leaner man dropped his head to the muscular shoulder and sighed contentedly.

Thumping music could be heard as Steve opened the door, hinting that a showcase was most likely being performed on stage.

“Oh, look, a stage show tonight, Captain. Should I take our coats?”” Bucky made no move to undrape himself, though, the suggestion was enough to signal he’d take over serving if his lover wished. He had a feeling Steve didn’t get the proper kind of thanks when _he_ took the coats or pulled out the chairs or anything. He probably got a perfunctory acknowledgement for an expected duty.

“Room,” Steve growled low; he didn’t want to watch a show . . . usually he’d like seeing how other doms and subs acted with each other . . . but tonight he just wanted Bucky. Nothing else.

“To get a private room,” Bucky instructed softly, in Steve’s ear, “you go to the shadow guards and tell them you want one. Tell them if you want a theme or a regular.” After a beat, Bucky whispered in Steve’s ear, “do you want me to wear a collar tonight?”

“Yes,” Steve answered firmly.

“Let the guard know to give you one, since I forgot mine, sir.” Bucky unzipped his jacket and slid it off, holding it, revealing his long neck so the collar would show as they passed through the crowds to get to their room.

Steve reluctantly let go of Bucky’s hip and slid away to go talk to the guard.

Bucky let out a loud whimper of need, letting those closest know he missed his dom’s touch instantly, showing he was a well kept sub and loved his status, his dom.

Returning a few minutes later, the blond held a key and a plain, black leather collar with a thick metal ring in the middle.

Bucky dropped wordlessly to his knees and exposed his throat for his lover, eyes watching through dark lashes. “Please, Captain?”

Securing the collar around his lover’s neck, Steve groaned and he helped Bucky back to his feet, “you’re such a good boy.”

“Thank you, sir,” Bucky breathed, slightly louder than his normal tone, obviously showing everyone who was near that his dom took care of him, letting Steve feel his power publicly.

“Come on, baby,” Steve wrapped his arm around the brunet’s waist.

Bucky unlooped the belt from his pants and offered it to Steve. “If you wish to lead me . . . I forgot the leash, sir,” he breathed very softly, smiling slightly, letting Steve chose to accept or deny that much.

Taking the belt, Steve looped it through the metal ring of Bucky’s collar and gently guided his lover through the room. The blond could see Clint and Natasha taking the stage as the band fell silent.

Bucky instantly broke character to tug Steve close. “You’ll regret missing this, Steve, Clint’s a trained singer. He rarely performs.” He met Steve’s eyes, promising to go right back to obeying if Steve preferred, but not wanting Steve to regret missing something like this if he really wanted to hear the man sing.

Nodding, Steve stopped and tugged Bucky closer to himself.

The brunet slid down to his knees by Steve’s hip, letting his hands caress over the man’s hips and abdomen and thighs as the room fell silent, an atmosphere of anticipation falling over the place.

Clint looked to Natasha then stepped forward and opened his mouth. HIs rich baritone enveloped the room, without backup music for the first opening bars, and Steve knew Bucky had not lied. This rare event was worth holding off for. The sub only performed the one song before dropping to his knees at Natasha’s side, letting her announce the planned show for the evening.

Bucky kissed Steve right over his crotch, nuzzling and looking up. “Was I right, Captain?” he breathed.

“Yes, baby,” Steve said and hoisted his lover back to his feet, “Let’s get to our room, yeah?”

Obeying instantly, Bucky followed his Captain down the hall to their private room. He didn’t say a word, but he hummed the music from Clint’s song as he walked. It turned out that Bucky had a nice voice, too, and was perfectly on key.

Opening the door to their private, non-themed, room, Steve let Bucky step in first.

The brunet gave Steve a sweet smile of gratitude and strode into the room. He made no move to put down or hang up his wet, heavy jacket or to unhook his leash. Rather, he turned and smiled invitingly at Steve, whispering, “you got one with a shower attached, Cap, thank you so much!”

“I know how much you like showers, baby,” Steve said as he shut the door and looked around the room.

Like the rest of the club, all the decor was black and red, a large four-poster bed sat in the middle. Different types of whips and paddles hung on one wall, and a large chest sat at the end of the bed; the guard had told Steve this would be where he would find various types of bindings, blindfolds and gags.

Looking around at the selection, Bucky licked his lips, keening softly in anticipation. “My God, you take good care of me, Cap!” He shot Steve a sweet smile. “Almost makes me feel guilty for what I’d planned to do tonight.”

Stepping closer, Steve unlooped Bucky’s belt from around the metal ring and asked softly, “and what would that be, Buck?”

“Well,” Bucky stayed perfectly still, holding his jacket, watching Steve with that smile. “I was going to shower and then work myself enough to put in a plug so I’d be loose while waiting. I was going to light some lavender and I was going to tease myself until you showed up. When you opened the door, I was going to cum all over myself, and walk out real dirty . . .” Bucky grinned, full of mischief.

“Disobey my direct order?” Steve growled, hands lowering to grip Bucky’s hips, squeezing tightly.

“Well . . . I was _needy_ ,” Bucky whimpered, still smiling that same naughty smile.

Steve shook his head and stepped back, letting go of all physical contact.

That elicited another whimper, sounding as needy as Bucky had claimed.

“Well, if you’re so _needy_ , baby. Get undressed,” Steve ordered stripping off his own coat and hanging it on the coat rack by the door.

“Neat or messy, Sir,” Bucky breathed, offering his naughty smile once more.

“Neatly,” Steve turned to open the trunk, crouching to sift through the contents.

Trembling in anticipation of what Steve might have planned, Bucky hung his jacket up. He carefully removed his clothing, folding or hanging each piece, including his socks and briefs. He ended by lining his shoes neatly by the door. Finally, nude except for the collar, Bucky turned and dropped to his knees in the middle of the open space. “Captain,” he barked out, like an enlisted man.

“Get on the bed,” Steve ordered, still looking through the large trunk.

Bucky stood and climbed into the bed, and waited there on his hands and knees, ass towards his lover, glancing over his shoulder in a wanton pose.

Steve walked over to the table by the bed, he didn’t grab anything from the trunk, although he left it open; opening the drawer, he grabbed a bottle of lube and tossed it on the bed. “Go on, then. Since you were so _needy_ , I guess you don’t need me.”

“But I didn’t do it, Sir. I _thought_ about it, but I _do_ need you.” Bucky whimpered, not reaching for the lube. This was a precarious moment, since Bucky was playing along but he certainly wouldn’t appreciate Steve reminding him of the real reason he’d not carried through with his disobedience. It required a different excuse for Steve to either come up with or ask for. Bucky was trusting Steve to add to the fantasy and erase the trauma of the threat.

Stepping to the edge of the bed, Steve ran the tip of his finger down the brunet’s spine, stopping before he touched the man’s ass.

Bucky keened softly, his ass thrusting slightly to meet Steve’s caress.

“Look at you, my pretty boy,” Steve leaned over and kissed a trail of kisses down the line he’d just touched. He breathed against the skin of Bucky’s ass, but didn’t kiss it.

Mischief sparking in his darkening eyes, Bucky reached for the lube, opened it, and put the bottle against his own hole. He squeezed hard and whimpered as the lotion began to fill him and dribble out. He looked over his shoulder at Steve and smiled innocently. Lifting one hand, balancing precariously, Bucky began to reach for his own member.

Gripping Bucky’s hand tightly, Steve growled, “I did not say you could touch yourself.”

“You said to _‘go ahead,’_ sir,” he whimpered and dared tug his hand softly, once.

Steve released his hand, stepping away from the bed and he nodded, “you’re right, baby. I _did_ say that, didn’t I?”

“Did you change your mind, Captain?” Bucky purred softly, eyes dancing as he began to finger his own ass, caressing around his rim.

“Hmmm . . .” Steve walked over to the trunk again, “did I change my mind?” He bent over and picked up a blindfold and two long pieces of red fabric.

Getting a wicked idea, Bucky began babbling to Steve, “because I can stop if you want, but you did say I could do it, since I was needy and you were so busy, and . . .”

“I don’t know, you seem to have yourself handled over there, baby.” Steve grabbed a small red ball gag as well.

“But I love the feel of a big man in my hot, needy ass, sir . . . and if you want, I can service your entire platoon . . .” Bucky continued to babble, eyes lighting on the bindings and stretching his smile wider.

“You love my cock, baby?” Steve asked, he closed the trunk and put the items he’d grabbed on top of the smooth, glossy surface.

“I love a big, thick, driving cock, Captain,” he evaded, pushing like the bad boy he wanted to be treated as.

Steve nodded, loosening his tie and then unbuttoning his dress shirt.

“Yellow, Steve,” Bucky suddenly called, watching his lover.

Stopping what he was doing, Steve looked over at Bucky.

Still in the same position, not wanting to spill more lube out, Bucky said, “our first time using a gag, Darlin’. Can’t use my words.”

Steve grabbed one of the bindings and walked over to Bucky, carefully he grabbed one of the brunet’s wrists, “I’m gonna show you a substitute for words.”

“Good, I’m ready,” he smiled widely, trustingly.

Nodding, Steve wrapped the binding around Bucky’s wrist and then shifted his lover so that the brunet was lying on his back by the headboard. Tying the fabric around one of the posts, loose enough that Bucky could unravel if needed, Steve gestured to the wooden surface behind his lover’s fist. “One knock is green. Two knocks is yellow. Three knocks is red.”

“And what if I need the safe word, Stevie,” he smiled.

“Knock four times for safeword,” Steve answered.

“Seems a lot of knocking if I’m in that much distress,” Bucky frowned softly. “How about I just keep knocking until you stop? Or maybe reverse our numbers? One for Hydra, two for red? Etc.?” Bucky suddenly had the binding in his hand and away from the bed completely. “Or I can just untie myself?” He laughed softly. “Think we need to work on this one, huh?” He wasn’t bothered that they had a few snags in their play. That was part of discovering together.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Steve smiled softly and then had a sudden idea, eyes lighting up slightly, “how about you snap your fingers if you want to safeword out?”

“Will you hear it, Steve? Knocking’s a great idea for out. Maybe we need to fix the other part of our code?” Bucky reached up from where he lay on his back and ran his hand softly down Steve’s still clothed form.

“How about knocking three times is your safeword and then once for yellow, I’ll make sure to check what you need. And then snapping can be for green?” Steve offered.

Bucky nodded. “Three for Hydra,” he repeated. “And I can skip out on red, yellow and Hydra are good for this. How about if I yellow, you have to remove my gag to check, just in case it’s a red?”

Nodding, Steve smiled, “Three for Hydra, once I remove the gag to check in, and snapping is green.”

“Love it. I’ve . . .” he licked his lips and smiled up at Steve. “I’ve never gotten to use the gag before. Always wanted to.”

Steve’s eyes darkened with lust and he kissed Bucky, pulling on his lip with his teeth before sitting all the way up.

“Hope the mood ain’t gone, darlin’. I was babbling about wanting _someone’s_ thick cock up my needy ass. Was about,” he flipped over on his hands and knees, reaching for the lube, “here.” Bucky squeezed more into his passage, letting some dribble out but clenching around the rest as a whimper escaped his throat.

Growling softly, Steve flipped Bucky back on his back, “you ain’t gettin’ my cock that easy, doll.”

Bucky’s hips canted slightly and he grinned widely. Softly, very softly, he said, “did you just call me doll?”

“Don’t like it?” Steve asked, breathless as he stepped off the bed again to grab the other items and strip off his clothes.

Groaning, Bucky shook his head, “makes me feel like a wanton mistress. I love it, Cap,” he nodded his assurance. Raising his voice back to his normal play pitch, Bucky called, “how about your platoon? I can take the officers first, starting with the big beefy lieutenant who’s always kissing your ass.”

Removing his shirt, Steve folded it and placed it on the trunk, followed by his trousers, socks and shoes. The blond continued to let his lover babble, almost ignoring the words as he finished getting undressed.

“Or maybe I can take the lowly privates first. One right after the other . . . or,” Bucky lifted his head to look in Steve’s eyes, “I can do ‘em two at a time, just to add the width?” He canted his hips again and whined, “I need it, Sir. Please . . .” Then, as if just realizing he was unbound, Bucky slowly inched his hand towards his crotch, as if he thought he was being sneaky.

Grabbing the other binding, Steve’s eyes snapped towards Bucky’s descending hand, “no touching yourself, doll.”

Bucky whimpered, pulling very lightly, a token resistence to let Steve know this was okay.

Sinking onto the bed, Steve clucked his tongue, “what happened to my good boy? He always used to listen to me.”

“Well, the lieutenant said I could have his fat dick anytime I wanted, sir . . .” he purred out.

With a loud growl, Steve moved fast to grab Bucky’s hand and expertly tie it to the bedpost. “You’re _mine_.”

“Sir, he said you ordered it,” Bucky blatantly lied for their game. “He was the reason I wasn’t dirty for you tonight. He washed me up after . . .”

Grabbing Bucky’s other hand, Steve successfully bound that wirst, “you belong to me and only me.”

Testing his bonds, sure he could get out if needing to, Bucky turned wide darkened eyes up to his lover. “You . . . you aren’t gonna do my feet, too, are you, sir?”

“No feet,” Steve answered, leaning over to grab the gag.

“Okay,” Bucky agreed softly, but smiled. He then raised his voice again, “Sir? I’m sorry . . . don’t _punish_ me. The lieutenant said I was _his_ good boy now.” He watched Steve’s beautiful erection. “But I can . . .” he continued his babble.

Steve growled possessively and proceeded to place the gag between Bucky’s lips, enjoying the way his lover’s plush lips spilled around the ball.

The brunet continued to make noises then trailed off, eyes wide and watchful. His erection pulsed.

“Check in,” Steve murmured as he secured the gag around the back of Bucky’s head.

A snap of Bucky’s long fingers came readily enough. His neat white teeth bit around part of the ball.

Nodding, Steve shifted and moved between Bucky’s legs, licking a stripe across the brunet’s inner thigh, teeth nipping gently at the flesh.

Hips canting a bit, Bucky made a low moan behind his gag. He loved how Steve marked his tender flesh, a badge he could show others if he chose but never did. Steve was _his_ , and so was his love.

Spreading Bucky’s legs further, Steve pushed his middle finger into the brunet’s passage, slick with the lube Bucky had already used. The blond crooked his finger to caress Bucky’s prostate, while his other hand fondled his lover’s balls.

The brunet bucked his hips up into Steve’s hands, whimpering and letting his eyes half close. He brought his feet off the mattress then firmly planted them once more, wondering if Steve had even noted his non-approved move.

“Don’t make me bind your feet, too, doll,” Steve muttered as he continued to thrust his finger in and out of Bucky’s ass.

Bucky tried to judge Steve’s tone, to decide if Steve wanted an excuse to finish tying Bucky up. Determining he’d wait a bit to judge, Bucky pushed his heels into the mattress instead, overcompensating in a display of belated obedience.

Pushing in a second finger, Steve scissored open his lover’s passage; the blond leaned over to kiss Bucky’s leaking cockhead.

Letting out a few short whimpers, Bucky moved his hips again as he felt his lover’s fingers working him. He bit slightly at the gag and enjoyed the sensation that he was bound and gagged, at Steve’s mercy . . . no one outside the room would hear him. He moaned softly.

Looking up, Steve’s eyes darkened even more at the sight of a trail of drool dribbling down Bucky’s chin from the gag. “So pretty, Buck. Such a good boy.”

Bucky responded with a few more whimpers from behind his gag, eyes staying steady on Steve’s. He was used to using his voice, guiding others, especially Steve who was still so new to the full kink. And now, he had to rely on Steve’s own knowledge, and their short two weeks of building trust. The absolute vulnerability, the lack of a _voice_ made Bucky’s member pulse, thickening and aching in his excitement.

Pushing a third finger in, Steve pressed against Bucky’s prostate, caressing the sensitive nerves for several strokes.

Panting, Bucky keened into the rubber ball, letting his eyes close in pleasure.

Thrusting his fingers, Steve own erection painfully hard and in need of release, the blond asked, “check in, baby?”

Bucky opened his eyes and snapped his fingers, making noises into the gag. He canted his hips to give his lover easier access, loving the fullness, needing more.

Steve continued to fuck his lover with his fingers, opening and stretching the passage. The blond’s free hand trailed up Bucky’s chest, feather light, and began to caress one of the brunet’s erect nipples, pinching the bud gently.

The stimulating pain drew another whimper and Bucky thrust into Steve’s hands, his body shuddering as he tried to get more stimulation for his crotch and his aching nipples.

Pulling his fingers out completely, moaning at the sight of lube leaking out of Bucky’s gaping hole, Steve got off the bed and grabbed a condom from the same drawer he’d gotten the lube. Rolling it on, Steve positioned himself between Bucky’s legs again.

Whimpering at the loss of fingers in his ass, Bucky thrust slightly, needing to be full, achingly, burning full. His eyes pleaded with Steve to fill him hard.

“I know, doll,” Steve cooed softly, hands gripping Bucky’s hips, “I know what you need, baby.” He pressed his tip against the brunet’s entrance.

Bucky snapped his fingers, assuring Steve he was up for this before Steve even checked.

“Good boy,” Steve smiled and leaned over to suckle on the same nipple he’d pinched as he slowly pushed his member into Bucky’s passage, groaning at the tight heat enclosing his erection. “Fuck, doll, so good for me.”

Needing more, nerve endings on high, Bucky thrust, his hips moving so suddenly he almost dislodged Steve. He whimpered, eyes blown almost totally black.

Kissing Bucky’s sensitive bud, Steve moved one hand to steady the brunet’s hips as he bottomed out, balls pressing against Bucky’s ass.

Lifting his legs, Bucky wrapped them around Steve’s waist, pressing his heels into Steve’s ass. He whimpered and let his eyes close.

After a few moments, Steve pulled back, almost completely, before snapping back in with a harsh, brutal shove, never stopping his assault on Bucky’s nipples, continuing to suck and nip at the flesh.

Bucky stopped keening, stopped moaning or whimpering, his mouth working soundlessly at the gag. He thrust against Steve, trying to find the rhythm, seeming to have trouble settling into it.

Noticing the struggle, Steve looked up, “Check in.”

Bucky paused then knocked once. His eyes were closed in ecstasy.

Sitting up, Steve immediately removed the gag, strands of saliva coming with the rubber ball.

“Kiss me and grab me, darlin’, I’m so close,” he moaned softly, eyes opening.

Groaning, Steve moved his other hand to wrap around Bucky’s member, continuing his thrusts.

Shaking his head, whimpering, Bucky said, “not _there_ ,” and keened again, thrusting up to meet Steve. “Close . . .”

“Where do you want me to grab, doll?” Steve panted, his pace brutal and nearly unforgiving.

“My ass, Steve, grab me,” Bucky lifted his head to look in Steve’s eyes. “God, I want your fucking strong hands all over me! Protecting me!”

Immediately complying, Steve moved both his hands to squeeze the firm globes of Bucky’s ass.

With a shout, Bucky’s head snapped back, his hands curling around his wrist bindings, his eyes rolling back. HIs hips bucked and snapped and hot spurts of cum shot over both of them in perhaps the biggest orgasm Steve had seen come from his lover. The brunet fell into an unbroken keen as his body continued to almost convulse with the force of his orgasm.

The sight of Bucky’s orgasm brought Steve over the edge, coming hard and fast, Steve leaned over as he continued to ride it out, and kissed Bucky’s neck, right above the collar. “God, Buck, so good.

Before Steve was quite finished, Bucky fell silent and limp, panting, eyes still partly opened but only the whites showing. He seemed to almost be asleep, but his breathing came in pants and gasps, his heart racing.

Finishing, Steve slowly pulled out of Bucky and quickly tied off and threw away the condom before beginning to untie Bucky’s wrists. With gentle hands, the blond unbound his lover and even removed the collar, pressing light kisses to the brunet’s sweat-dampened forehead.

Bucky seemed too lethargic to respond, even with a noise. He remained complacent, limp. His heart rate was slowing as his breath began to come under control.

Leaning over, Steve grabbed the package of body wipes that Tasha kept stocked in every room. Continuing in his gentle manner, the blond wiped the drool off Bucky’s chin and the cum off his abdomen. He never touched any of Bucky’s known sensitive spots, not wanting to overstimulate his lover in this delicate state.

After cleaning Bucky first and then himself, Steve threw away the soiled wipes and walked into the bathroom to get a glass of water. Setting the water on the bedside table, Steve sank back on the bed, pulling the soft sheets up and over both their bodies and wrapped his arms around his lethargic lover, running his fingers through Bucky’s hair.

“Shit,” Bucky whimpered softly, brokenly. “Stevie . . . damn . . .”

“Yeah,” Steve chuckled softly and reached over for the glass of water, “think you can take a drink yet?”

“Help me?” Bucky asked, unable to pull his muscles together to sit up, mind struggling to just black out.

Sitting up, Steve pulled Bucky against his chest, careful not to spill the water on the bed.

With a sigh, Bucky leaned heavily into Steve and opened his mouth. Genty, the blond tipped the glass to Bucky’s lips and gave his lover a small sip of water.

A little dribbled, but the brunet managed to swallow most of what he was given. He turned his face into Steve’s neck with a happy sigh, sounding more like someone floating on a high than a man who’d just cum. Softly, he whispered, “Note . . . gag . . . good . . .” and he fell silent.

Laughing softly, Steve pressed his lips to Bucky’s temple, “I love you, doll.”

Bucky muttered something which could be taken as an attempt at “love you, darlin’.”

Setting the water down, Steve slid back down, keeping Bucky in his arms, and whispered, “go to sleep, baby. You did so good for me, Buck.”

Smiling, whimpering his pleasure at the compliment, Bucky obeyed and drifted to sleep rather quickly, still pleasurably limp in Steve’s strong arms.


	8. Planning Decisions

Hours later, Steve’s eyes opened; he blinked a few times to clear the sleepy haze and smiled down at the resting brunet in his arms. Lovingly, the blond ran his fingers through Bucky’s sleep-mussed hair; his sub looked so much younger when he slept. Steve pressed his lips to his lover’s gently. 

Opening his eyes, Bucky smiled and stretched. His body seemed to hum and his mind felt a bit muzzy, but the brunet knew something truly special had happened . . . and it had been Steve to do it to him.

“How are you feeling, doll?” Steve murmured, kissing the brunet’s stubbled jaw. 

“Amazing? Thirsty? Hungry?” Bucky rasped, turning his face up for more kisses. “I’m humming . . .”

Chuckling lightly, Steve leaned down to kiss his lover’s neck, “I can practically feel you vibrating, baby . . . you did so good last night.”

Chuckling, Bucky returned the kisses. “I got pretty selfish. Hope you got to release?” He lifted one lazy hand to stroke down Steve’s large pectoral, smiling in appreciation for the other man’s beauty.

Humming low, Steve shifted to pull his lover closer, peppering the side of the brunet’s face with light butterfly kisses, completely playful. “I’m happier than I’ve ever been, Buck. _You_ did that.”

“Good,” Bucky slid his hand behind Steve’s neck and tugged him down into a deep kiss. Breaking after a while, the brunet breathed, “now I gotta figure how to send you topside, darlin’.”

Smiling, Steve kissed the tip of Bucky’s nose and then trailed down his chest, stopping just above the navel. “How to send me topside? Let’s see . . .” he continued to press his lips against the brunet’s skin, Bucky’s hips, inner thighs, calves, ending with the tops of his feet.

Moaning softly, Bucky threw his head back, enjoying the attention Steve bestowed on him. “Gotta get cleaned up, Stevie. I really need that shower now,” he breathed on a moan.

Leaning back up, hands on either side of Bucky’s face, Steve smiled and kissed his sub’s lips again.

Quirking an eyebrow, Bucky gave his lover a naughty smile, “unless you want to keep me dirty, Cap?”

“We can shower together, baby, save the whales or whatever,” Steve teased lightly.

“Yeah, and then you can carry me, since my legs don’t wanna work,” Bucky chuckled, kissing Steve’s neck then tracing his tongue down the other man’s collarbone.

Groaning, Steve scooped his lover into his strong arms; sliding off the bed, he made his way into the connecting bathroom. “The things you do to me, doll.” 

Whimpering in pleasure, Bucky nuzzled Steve’s neck, staying carefully pliant in his lover’s arms so as not to over balance him. “How long was I out, darlin’?” the brunet purred softly, licking and kissing.

“Don’t know, honestly, I fell asleep soon after you and didn’t wake up much before I kissed you awake,” Steve sat Bucky down on the black, granite countertop by the sink.

“Okay, might wanna keep an ear out then. After about eight hours, Tasha sends someone to check on a silent couple. Just to make sure things are good.” Bucky wrapped his legs around Steve’s hips and tugged him in, just using his strong thigh and leg muscles. “Oh, cold stone under my ass . . .” his member began to rouse.

“Incorrigible,” Steve teased lightly, kissing Bucky’s neck, sucking on the sensitive flesh. “I thought you said your legs weren’t working.”

Head falling back at Steve’s ministrations, Bucky lifted his head at the other man’s words. He smiled, pure wickedness, and purred, “I lied, Captain.”

“Naughty boy,” Steve growled softly. 

Suddenly, Bucky lifted one of his hands, a red blindfold dangling from it. “And you forgot something earlier . . .”

Quirking a brow, unsure when Bucky could’ve picked up the blindfold in the first place, Steve laughed and shook his head, “I guess I got too excited about the gag. You did look so pretty for me, baby.”

“You an’ me both, darlin’,” Bucky purred and locked his arms around Steve’s shoulders, letting the material sweep over the blond’s back. “I always wanted to try it out.”

“I’m guessing you’d like to do it again?” Steve asked.

“Maybe in a couple days or so,” Bucky laughed. “The last time zapped me . . . and I’m still humming. Feel like I did a line of coke or something.” He reluctantly let go of his lover with his legs and arms, bringing the blindfold up to his face but not putting it on, just holding it there in front of his eyes, his smile teasing.

Chuckling, Steve kissed Bucky’s forehead and pulled back, turning to start the shower. Turning back, Steve shook his head, “keep up with that blindfold and we’re never gonna shower, Buck. Ain’t nice to tease your Captain like that.”

Laughing freely, Bucky let the blindfold drop to the floor. He slid carefully from the counter and leaned against it heavily, smiling wide. “I ache in all the best places, Cap.”

“Good,” Steve smiled and helped Bucky step into the large shower with the rainfall spigot. Steam had already begun to fill the space, fogging up the mirror and making the air humid. 

As the water cascaded over his abused body, Bucky groaned and leaned into Steve, his legs trembling. “God, this is good . . .” He made no move to actually clean himself up, just content to stand, leaning into Steve’s strength.

Steve supported Bucky’s weight easily; grabbing the shampoo, the blond squeezed a generous amount into his palm.

“Get my hair, Steve?” Bucky asked as he literally dropped to his knees. He grabbed Steve’s member in his hands and began to lick him, tip to balls, laving the thickening rod lovingly.

Dropping his hands to begin lathering the soap into Bucky’s hair, Steve groaned low, head falling back. “Fuck . . . my pretty boy, you’re so good to me.” 

“Gotta . . . make up . . . for . . . disobeying . . . with the . . . lieutenant . . . Cap,” Bucky said as he worked. Finally, he looked up at Steve from under his lashes, careful not to get the soap in his eyes, and began to engulf that large, beautiful head and shaft. He worked steadily, swallowing inch by inch, until he worked the entire length into his throat.

Continuing to massage Bucky’s scalp, Steve’s hips bucked and he groaned loudly. 

Making an appreciative whimper, loving how he drove his lover to lose a bit of control, Bucky merely held the man in his mouth and throat and softly began to hum Clint’s song from earlier.

“Shit!” Steve moaned, eyes fluttering closed, mouth dropping slightly, “Buck . . .” the blond breathed as he fucked the brunet’s throat, fingers tightening in his lover’s hair.

Still watching Steve, Bucky lifted one hand from Steve’s hip and snapped his fingers, continuing to take the abuse of the large member.

Panting, Steve groaned, “my perfect boy . . . I love you, so much!”

A few more strokes and Bucky tapped Steve’s hip once.

Pulling out, Steve’s chest heaving and eyes half lidded, he caressed the side of Bucky’s face, the soap long rinsed out.

The brunet heaved in a gasp or two of air and grinned up at Steve. “Gotta learn to hold my breath longer, Cap,” he purred after a moment. He then went back to licking Steve, dipping his tongue tip in the slit and twirling his moist heat over the cockhead, over and over.

Steve’s eyes rolled back and he had to brace himself with one hand against the side of the wet shower wall.

“Check in, Cap?” Bucky asked firmly, lifting his mouth off, watching Steve’s reaction in the hot water.

“Green . . . fuck,” Steve’s moaned breathlessly, hips canting. 

Smiling, Bucky went back to his ministrations, letting his hands rove over the main shaft of the large erection, weighing and rolling Steve’s balls in one hand as the other twisted and stroked, his tongue swirling, dipping, and swirling again. All the while he kept his eyes firmly locked on Steve, checking his reactions, monitoring whether the man was becoming overwhelmed by heat or just the blowjob.

“Buck . . . doll,” Steve groaned brokenly, “Gonna . . . fuck!”

Bucky snapped his own fingers, signaling he’d be fine with taking the load if Steve wanted him to. He slid the man’s cock back down his throat, working his muscles as he went.

Whole body shuddering, Steve bucked his hips again and lost himself over the edge of his orgasm, broken, gasping breaths escaping his lips. He leaned against the tiled wall as heavily as he could as he shot thick ropes of his seed down his lover’s throat.

Bucky pulled back slowly, sucking the entire time, trying to milk Steve for every drop, until he remained latched only on the large cockhead, still sucking. He watched Steve for the cues the man might give as to his condition, ever mindful of their near sauna like conditions.

Cheeks flushed, Steve leaned his forehead against the tile wall, chest heaving and eyes still half-lidded.

Popping his mouth obscenely from Steve’s member, Bucky said, “check in, Cap.”

“Gr - - green . . . fuck, Buck . . .” Steve moaned, body still trembling from the amazing blowjob his lover had just given him.

“Gonna cool it down in here. Just stay put,” Bucky purred and began carefully, slowly, turning the water colder by increments. When the water cascaded luke warm over the pair, cooling them without freezing them, Bucky leaned into Steve’s thigh. “You still with me? You look like you’ve never had a blow job before, Steve.”

“Not one like _that_ , doll,” Steve laughed, catching his breath.

Chuckling, Bucky nuzzled at the side of Steve’s member. “Well, whoever did it before did it wrong then,” Bucky said, pride in his voice.

After the trembling had subsided, Steve gently grabbed Bucky’s bicep and pulled him to his feet. Looking down at his lover’s erection, the blond grinned wickedly, “need help with that, doll?”

Glancing down, Bucky looked back at Steve and grinned just as wickedly. “But I haven’t been punished yet. A typical one is to make me wear a ring and wait for a few hours before I’m allowed to have release.” He ran his fingers down Steve’s chest. “Maybe a plug to keep me open for you to have whenever you want?” He figured even after two weeks of playing, they hadn’t had time to explore long-time play, and Steve had only had one night stands before. Reminding him of just what was available could really expand Steve’s mind.

“Hmm . . .” Steve stepped back, opening the glass door of the shower.

“But, I’m happy to take myself in hand or let you take me in hand . . . or whatever you want, Captain,” Bucky added, to remind Steve that the blond had the ultimate power, even if Bucky had the experience.

“Can you walk, doll?” Steve asked, stepping out of the shower, offering his hand to the brunet.

“Yeah, I think so,” Bucky chuckled and stepped from the shower on still shaky legs. “Maybe we should hold the punishment off a bit after all? I may be still too far gone.” He smiled at Steve for the reminder of his delicate state.

Steve nodded and grabbed a towel to pass over to Bucky before grabbing his own, wrapping the soft fabric around his waist, hair still dripping.

“Gotta love a shower that can pulse water strong enough I don’t have to touch things, huh?” Bucky grinned and carefully dried himself, hissing at the very over-sensitive feeling across his ass and crotch. “God, Steve . . . you could break a guy with those hands,” he repeated happily.

Grinning, Steve laughed and kissed his lover, “only the best for you . . . I know you can’t get enough of my hands.”

“Shit, they’re almost the best part of you,” Bucky said, mischief in his eyes.. “I think you fell outta heaven on my doorstep. Instead of raining cats and dogs, it rained pleasure gods.” Bucky leaned into Steve to kiss him. “I’d call you Thor, but there’s already a dom here by that name.”

“Cap is just fine for me,” Steve smiled softly and walked back into the bedroom; the air still smelled like sweat and sex.

A firm knock sounded on the door. Bucky chuckled. “You can knock back or just call out. It’s a check in to make sure we’re still breathing.”

“We’re good in here!” Steve called out.

“Yes, we are,” Bucky added his voice, still smiling. “And so, we’ll be left alone for another eight hours if we wish. But, you said something about dinner? That would have been eight hours ago?”

Steve sighed, smile dropping slightly, he ran a hand through his hair, shaking water out of the blond locks. “I should go back to my apartment . . . before Sharon calls the cops again.”

Worried frown replacing happy smile, Bucky put a hand on Steve’s arm. “She’s called the cops on you for staying out?” He shook his head. “Damn, I didn’t know.”

“Not your fault, doll. She’s just crazy . . . I - - I think I’m going to end it,” Steve admitted, looking suddenly nervous.

Moving his hand to Steve’s chest, Bucky met his eyes. “You gotta be real sure for yourself, Steve. You’ve been with her for years, at least twelve.” He kissed Steve’s cheek.

“I don’t want to be with her anymore . . . I want to be with you, _for real_. I want to come home to you every night . . . you’re all I want, doll. Her and I have been over way before you came into my life.” Steve looked at his lover with honest, loving eyes.

Bucky chuckled and fanned himself with his free hand. “Be still my heart. I think I hear a proposal in the wind.” He gave his sweet smile to Steve then moved off to get the blond’s clothes, turning, holding out his boxers and undershirt. “Want help getting ready, darlin’?”

Smiling brightly, although his eyes still held concern, the blond nodded, accepting the clothes from Bucky.

As Steve got dressed, Bucky grabbed a towel and started drying the man’s hair for him, dancing around Steve’s movements.

“I’m serious, though, Buck . . . I want this,” Steve said as he buttoned his trousers and pulled on his dress shirt.

Stilling, Bucky turned his smile and his attention to the blond. “What you want and what you can live with might clash, darlin’.” he advised. “You gotta be sure for yourself if you want to take that leap, even for me.” He kissed Steve. “I’ll get a ride, so don’t mind leaving me here. I still haven’t gotten to try the aqua room.”

Kissing back, Steve nodded, “I’ll give you a call later tonight, okay?”

“Yes, you will,” Bucky laughed.

Steve pulled on his shoes and grabbed his wallet and keys before picking up his suit jacket, draping it over his arm.

Bucky, in all his naked glory, watched Steve, his body lightly flushed still, his eyes partially blown. The brunet reached for a soft robe provided, leaving his clothes in the room, and slid into the silken material. “I’m gonna get some breakinner. You be careful, darlin’. Come home safe when you can.” He leaned into Steve for a last, lingering kiss.

“I will,” Steve pulled away, mouth inches from Bucky’s, “I’ll call you later. I love you.”

“And I love _you_ ,” Bucky answered, smiling, moving to open the door to the room.

Flashing the brunet one last, nervous smile, Steve ducked out of the room and walked down the hall.

In the darkened corridor it was hard to make out the short dark-haired man dressed in a deep red robe and collar strolling past, but no one else seemed visible until the blond got to the large dining area, where that same red and black leather clad man lounged that Steve had seen every time he’d visited. No one accosted Steve.

*************

Before he could shut the door, Bucky noted the man in scarlet approaching. With a chuckle, he called, “hey, Tony. Didn’t know you were back in town.”

The CEO of Stark Industries, Tony Stark himself, lifted his head and smiled, the light from Bucky’s room glinting off the ring in the shorter man’s collar. “Just got in this morning. Saw the big blond leave. He with you?”

“Yeah, and he’s mine,” Bucky purred.

“During play time, yeah, but I want him during working hours.” Tony sidled into Bucky’s room without invitation.

Laughing, the brunet signaled one of the shadow guards for food, they had the preferences of everyone listed in the kitchens, and turned to join his friend. “So, you’re interested in my Captain?”

“Captain? Ooh, finally found someone to play World War II with?” Tony looked around, sniffed, and laughed softly. “Maybe we need a different room for dinner?”

“You’re the one who invited yourself in, Tony,” Bucky laughed, tying his robe shut. “And we haven’t gotten far enough to pick a war. I was thinking I’d dress up for Military Theme night and see if he likes it. He may just be into rank, not actual military.” The brunet began pulling the dirtied sheets from the bed, smiling as Tony made himself comfortable on the foot locker instead of helping. Stark never lifted a finger unless it was in his own interest. One would think the man was a dom, not a sub.

“Your dom is a very hot commodity on the financial circuit, Bucky Bear. I’m thinking of hiring him.” Tony turned and watched Bucky working.

The taller brunet nodded. “Not sure if he’s available. We don’t mix business and pleasure, Tony.” Dumping the linens through the laundry door into the hamper, Bucky turned and sighed. “What happened to your own COO?”

Shrugging, the smaller brunet rose to his feet and strolled around, always restless, needing something or someone to contain his energy. “He’s gotten hired away by that dirty politician, Pierce. Now I’m in a lurch.” Shrugging, Tony added, “it’s why I’m back. Gotta recall my main men so we can power pow-wow.”

Stopping his own cleaning, Bucky groaned softly, shaking his head. “Wait, does that mean the R&D department, too? That’s a pretty big recall, Tony. Most of the department’s on leave and scattered.”

“But you’re here, Buckaroo,” Tony pointed out with a smirk.

“Yeah, I was using my vacation to help out my friends. They’re short staff at their store right now, so I took some night shifts for them.” Bucky ran his hand through his damp hair. “When do you need R&D?” he sighed.

“I knew I could count on you! You guys are part of our biggest, no you _are_ our biggest department. Most important?” Tony sidled over, his tone somewhere between wheedling and over-complimentary. “Most valuable? Smartest? Prettiest?”

“Fine, you got me,” Bucky chuckled. “I’ll be there tomorrow to help you plan how to keep your company afloat when really I just belong in the back room tinkering.”

Tony spread his hands, grinning, “you know I love ya, babe!”

“Yeah, yeah, you know I love you back, Tony.” Bucky laughed and opened the door, smiling as the shadow guard blinked, standing with the requisite food. “Thanks!” Bucky breathed, “mind carrying it for me to the aqua room? I’m still a bit spaced.”

The guard smiled and nodded, moving off on the errand as Tony called from behind, “whoa! Wish I’d gotten him first!”

“He’s mine, Tony. And you keep your tiny little sissy paws off my big bruiser with the magical hands.” Bucky grinned cheekily and led his friend down to the recently completed spa.


	9. Lingering After Effects

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning: Severe violence, rape, and near-death. Totally non-con. Do not read if these are triggers.**

Sighing heavily, Steve took a steadying breath as he unlocked the door. He knew what he wanted . . . what he _needed_ to do. But was he strong enough to actually do it? He wanted a life with Bucky, the short two weeks had been the best weeks of his life. He needed a life with Bucky in it . . . but could he face the consequences that came with that need? It wasn’t a guarantee he’d get fired . . . just a very high possibility. 

He was a young, dedicated man - - he’d be _fine_ , right? Even if he got fired he could find another place to work . . . maybe he’d take a pay-cut but he had enough in savings to sustain himself for a few months while he searched for another job. He’d be _fine_.

Opening the door, Steve shut it behind himself, loud enough that the noise would be heard throughout the entire apartment. He walked into the clean, spacious living room and simply waited until Sharon came storming in. 

It took at least ten minutes before the petite blonde made an appearance. She was dressed to the nines in a calf-length blue dress with strapped matching heels and her sapphires. As she stepped into view, she adjusted one of the earrings, her eyes never even looking at Steve. Finally, straightening, dropping her hands, she looked over her erstwhile boyfriend. “So, you’re going to Daddy’s party in _that_?” Her voice sounded conversational, mostly.

“I’m not going to your father’s party, Sharon,” Steve said firmly, eyes never leaving his girlfriend’s face.

Sighing, Sharon frowned. “Steven Grant Rogers, it’s my father’s birthday celebration and you promised months ago to bring me!”

“I’m sorry, Sharon, really I am. But - - this . . .” Steve gestured between the two of them, “this isn’t working out. It hasn’t been for months.”

Stiffening, she narrowed her eyes. “In the last two weeks have I mentioned your gay trysts at all? No. Even today, when you were due home hours, literally hours ago, I was overlooking things, wasn’t I? All I asked was to be brought to a party you were previously promised for.” She crossed her arms.

“This isn’t about my sexuality, Sharon!” Steve snapped, throwing his arms in the air, “This is about you and me! We aren’t working, anymore. I’m not in love with you . . . I’m done playing this game.”

“God, Steve, you are thirty years old! How can you be such a child? This was never about love, darling. Of course we never loved each other. It’s about money and power and business.” She shook her head.

“Well, you’re just going to have to find your money, power and business with someone else. I’m not doing this anymore,” Steve’s tone didn’t waver, his blue eyes serious and firm.

Lifting one well manicured hand, her nails flashing in glittering blue, sapphire colored gems on each nail, she narrowed her eyes. “Wait before you walk, Steve,” she warned in a low tone. “Think about what this will do to you . . . to your boyfriend.” She paused then said, “didn’t know I knew it was the same guy all this time, did you?”

Steve froze, his breath hitching in his throat, eyes widening.

“Yes, now he realizes just how much I knew he was breaking the rules of our agreement . . . and still let things slide. You see how these things work, darling? We work around each other and make public appearances. Once we’re done at the party, you can think about letting me stage a fight so you can have a little space, maybe a nice weekend in Greece with your boytoy and then come crawling back.” Sharon adjusted her dainty watch and nodded briefly at her reflection. “Of course, we’ll sport it about that you were with a woman. But you can go on your little gay trysts and we’ll stay together publicly, and everyone will forget how you’ve started straying these past weeks.”

Steve shook his head, fists clenching by his sides, “don’t bring him into this, Sharon,” he growled low, possessively, “I am _not_ doing this anymore! You can’t control me! This is my life!”

“Oh, please, Steve!” Sharon glared at him. “Your whole life has been about letting people control you. I think you get off on it or something.” She shook her head.

Stepping closer, faces inches apart, Steve looked down at the blonde woman, “well I am done. We’re done, over, _finished_. Out me for all I care! I can find another job!”

“Out you? Oh, I can one up you better than telling everyone you like a guy’s dick up your ass, Steve!” Sharon stormed towards the counter, snatching up her bluetooth and putting it in her ear. Flicking it on, she said “yeah, I’m going alone.” She flicked off the device.

“What did you just do?” Steve asked.

“Do?” She stepped close, poking Steve in the chest as she looked up at him. “I just arranged your boyfriend to have a fucking flashback. And you can’t get there in time, lover, because you’re fucking stuck in here.” She left the room, letting the door shut, and the sound of hydraulics hissing began, signaling she’d hit the panic button . . . locking him in.

Steve ran to the door, pulling on the knob furiously, “fuck!” He shouted, banging on the door. Fear coursing through his veins. _Bucky. Bucky. Bucky._

He knew the door wouldn’t open for several hours, the automatic lock programmed to stay shut in case of a attempted break in.

Pulling out his phone, Steve tried dialing his lover’s number. When the ringing stopped and went to voicemail, the blond let out a loud scream and tried opening the door again, even though he knew it was pointless.

_Bucky. Bucky. Bucky._

**************

Bucky lay on his front, careful to remain still in his over-sensitized, still trembling state. His arms were folded under his chin and he merely lay, nude, stretched on one of the relaxing tables, heated stones down his spine. He was alone, the staff having left and the new shift having yet to report in. Tony had gone, as well, after they’d eaten and the smaller brunet had his toenails painted a deep scarlet to match his new collar. Bucky had wisely forgone the entire spa treatment, settling merely for the stones so he didn’t drive himself sick from stimulation.

A loud crashing, sounds of breaking glass and tumbling furniture, came from the main room, followed by muffled shouting and growling.

Looking up, stunned, Bucky tried to hear what might be happening, listening for the sounds of gunfire like that night so long ago when the place had been robbed. He couldn’t move fast enough, the relaxing scents and stones having added to his lethargy. Groaning as his own still semi-erect member rubbed against the lounging table, Bucky tried to slide to his feet. He didn’t even bother to reach for his robe, knowing that if someone was breaking in, safety was the priority.

The door to the Aqua Room burst open; four burly men in ski masks barged in. “There he is!” one of the men shouted.

Holding up his hands in a non-threatening way, hip leaning against the bed to support him, Bucky called, “I haven’t got my money on me. It’s down the hall . . .”

The men stepped forward threateningly; the biggest man growled low and menacingly, “We ain’t here for no money, _faggot_!”

Eyes opening wide, Bucky drew in a deep breath of fear. He shook his head. “I haven’t hurt anyone . . .”

The man strode over to where Bucky stood and backhanded the lean brunet hard across the face; sending Bucky stumbling into the table with a grunt then a whimper. Grabbing a fistful of the short brunet locks, the man wrenched Bucky’s head back painfully.

A second man stepped forward and grinned. “Hey, see what I found? A box of goodies. Think the _faggot_ wants to play? We can play.” He pulled out first a very thick, black ballgag then a ribbed dildo that was about the size of a well-hung man. “Whatcha think?”

“No, don’t touch me,” Bucky begged softly, dropping to his knees since he was too weak to remain upright. Of all the times for this to occur. Fuck, he knew the manual said that a sub or dom in space should be tended for over twenty-four hours. Why’d he let Steve go?

Releasing his grip on Bucky’s hair, the man barked out a vicious laugh and smacked the smaller brunet again, hand colliding with his cheek with a loud snap. “You disgusting freak!” He stomped on Bucky’s left hand.

Screaming, Bucky jerked inadvertently, feeling and hearing the crunch of his delicate bones.

The second attacker nodded. “There’s some ties in here, too. Let’s make him beg for it.” He strode over and pulled Bucky’s head back, offering the gag to the leader.

Shoving the offered gag in between the brunet’s lips, the leader tightened the strap harshly around the back of Bucky’s head.

Bucky gagged and choked before he managed to work his mouth in a way to let the drool run out instead of back into his throat. Grey-blue eyes wide, he looked up at them, still trapped under the man’s boot.

The third and fourth attackers made their way over, thick, black ropes in their hands.

“Got a thin little riding crop in here . . . and a paddle made of wood,” the guy with the box said, laughing.

“Whatcha say, little whore? Wanna be spanked? You like that don’t you, you little bitch?” The leader sneered.

Bucky shook his head, eyes wide. Even if he did love a good whipping, this was the absolute worse time it could happen . . . even if someone were loving about it. He let out a whimper around the gag.

Grabbing the rope, the leader, with the help from the second man, grabbed Bucky’s arms and pulled them tightly behind his back.

Bucky tried to squirm away, pain from his arm sending blinding white lights through his eyes. He fought to hold back the vomit, knowing he’d choke to death with this gag in. Screaming around the gag as the man pulled his left arm too tight, actually dislocating it, Bucky sagged, the tears streaming down his face. His left hand felt like it pulsed with every beat of his heart.

Tying Bucky’s arms tight enough to break skin, the leader sat back on his heels and enjoyed the view of his handiwork.

“Want the whip or the paddle, boss? And the fake dick? We can shove that in him, too.” The guy with the box licked his lips, enjoying the torture he instilled on the helpless man.

“What do you say, bitch?” The leader asked, grabbing a fistful of Bucky’s hair, pulling tight, “want a fat cock shoved so far up your ass that you’ll be able to taste it? Or how about I smack your ass until it bleeds? You’d like that, huh? You disgusting little whore!”

Whimpering, fear filling his eyes, Bucky tried to shake his head, hair ripping out in chunks. God, they couldn’t touch his ass, that would send him over the edge, and Bucky had a suspicion it wouldn’t be the edge of pleasure this time.

“Get him on his knees, boys,” the man put down his box, passing the paddle to his leader. “I’m gonna see how far I can shove this dick in him.”

Roughly, the leader and the third man hauled the struggling Bucky to his knees, the brunet’s face pressed against the tiled floor; he couldn’t brace himself with his hands.

Nodding, the man with the dildo said “pull his cheeks out of the way. I’m gonna drive this fucker insane.” Bucky whimpered and screamed, the gag muffling his desperate noises.

“Shut it, faggot!” The leader snarled and punched the back of Bucky’s head, driving his face into the floor harder and breaking his nose, before gripping the brunet’s asscheeks and pulling them roughly apart.

The sensation on his very sensitive ass caused Bucky to jerk and shudder, falling into a whimper as humiliating pleasure shot through him, followed by nauseating pain. He gagged.

“Look at that! The fucking freak likes it!” The fourth man laughed, “Rutting like a bitch in heat!”

“Yeah,” the guy with the dildo grinned and lined up the toy, laughing as Bucky’s hole fluttered and clenched. He shoved, hard, and ignored the brunet’s screams as he tore through skin and muscles, ramming the fake erection as deep as it would go, only the flange at the bottom preventing it getting lost inside the victim.

Bucky passed out, throwing up at the same time, choking against the gag on his own vomit.

“Shit, we ain’t supposed to kill him . . .” the third, so far silent, man growled.

All hell broke loose as the door slammed in and a short stocky blond in leather and collar threw himself at the men, growling like a rabid dog. He kicked out with his reinforced motorcycle boots and jabbed hard with stiffened, battle ready hands, even headbutting the leader viciously in the crotch.

“Fuck!” The leader groaned, grabbing his crotch as he went down hard to the ground.

The other three jumped on the fighting blond, beating him, one using the whip another the paddle. But Clint was giving it back hard, fighting for all he was worth.

Wade, still fully dressed in his red and black suit, knelt down next to the unconscious Bucky. Quickly removing the gag, dildo and bindings, vomit spilling out of the brunet’s mouth, Wade cleared the burnet’s airway then picked up Bucky gently. “You’re gonna be okay, Buck! Shit . . . c’mon . . . breathe!”

Bucky coughed, and gagged again, eyes fluttering open before he came fully awake, clutching his still partially blocked throat. He continued to hack, trying to dislodge the obstruction but getting some air through as Wade continued to carry him. Once inside Natasha’s office, Wade set Bucky down on the large couch, tilting the brunet’s head to the side to help Bucky expel whatever was left in his airway. 

As Bucky vomited up a hard black piece of bitten off rubber, a loud whimpering keen was heard down the hall, followed by a loud yelp and pain-filled howl.

“I gotta help Clint,” Wade said, “Stay here!”

Bucky didn’t even try to respond, barely able to concentrate on breathing and not throwing up at the same time, his hand and arm beyond pain, blood seeping liberally down his aching, burning ass and thighs.

Wade hurried out of the room to help his friend.

The man who’d previously used the dildo lay crumpled on the floor, rolling, hands over his crotch and howling in obvious great pain. Clint lay nearby, curled in a defensive ball, as the other two men pummelled him, while the leader swore and reached for the paddle. One of the blond’s bright purple hearing aids was smashed on the floor and blood leaked from the other ear, the aid not in sight.

Grabbing the leader by the collar of his shirt, Wade hauled him back and punched him hard in between the eyes, rendering the man instantly unconscious.

The other two let go of Clint and circled around, warily, while the one with the severe crotch injury grabbed the leader and began dragging himself and his boss from the room. As soon as the beating stopped, Clint uncurled himself and whimpered, over and over. He seemed to be forming words, but they were hard to distinguish “earearearearear . . .” Shooting an almost apologetic look at his friend, Clint crawled away, one hand clutching the side of his head, one back leg dragging slightly.

Letting out a loud roar, Wade tackled one of the men trying to get away. Immediately the large dom began to pummel the attacker. Once the man was unconscious, Wade kicked him one last time before straightening. “Fucker!” Wade growled.

The second man tried to run down the hall, tripping over Clint in his haste. Clint rolled himself into Tasha’s office and hit the panic button, knowing Wade could run outside once he heard the alarm Clint could only feel pain lancing through his abused body. He collapsed next to Bucky, still struggling to not vomit again, still panting, whimpering, and shuddering.


	10. Misery Loves Company

The door to Steve’s apartment swung open finally, and Sam, his assistant, dressed in a tuxedo, stood there, looking worried and puzzled. “Steve?”

Shooting to his feet, Steve, tears running down his face, ran over to Sam. “Bucky! We got to make sure Bucky is okay!” 

“Sharon said you’d hit the panic button,” the attractive black man trotted almost beside his employer and friend. “Said you had to wait for the timer so you missed the party.”

“She fucking lost it!” Steve shouted, “I’m going to make sure Bucky is okay! Come if you want!”

“Wait, Steve, Bucky?” the assistant kept up with the tall blond.

As soon as the elevator opened, Steve bolted to his car, hands shaking, eyes wide with fear. Opening the door, Steve slid in and started the car, Sam hot on his heels, sliding into the passenger seat and buckling up.

“What’s going on? Sharon did what? And Bucky?” Sam tried questioning Steve again.

“My Bucky!” Steve snarled, eyes blazing and hands tightening around the steering wheel as he peeled out of the parking garage.

“Wait? Your mistress?” The man frowned, shaking his head. “Sharon found out about her . . . uh . . . him?”

“Yes!” Steve snapped, “she knew everything!”

“She’s been having you followed for two weeks. I texted you the night after you walked off from the Stark party.” Sam shook his head. “But I thought you were being careful?”

“I _was_. Until I tried to break things off with her,” Steve ground out, blowing through a red light in his haste to get to Bucky.

Sam shook his head. “Oh, shit. Steve, you know that club you had me arrange payment for?” He turned his lead to look at his friend.

“Yeah?” Steve nervously looked to Sam before forcing his eyes back on the road.

“Well, there was something on the news a bit ago. They had a break in. A couple guys got beat pretty bad. And three of the four perps were taken in, also beat pretty bad. One of them had bites halfway through his crotch.” Sam shuddered.

Steve whimpered. _Bucky. Bucky. Bucky._

Steve’s phone rang, denoting Sharon on the other end.

Turning on the call through the car’s speakers, uncaring if Sam heard the conversation, Steve answered with a snap, “what the fuck did you do, Sharon?!”

“Gay men get hurt, Steve. And they can always be found,” she replied quite calmly.

“You’re insane! Sharon, stop this!” Steve pleaded, thinking about his lover; Bucky’s bright, loving smile, the way the brunet’s skin tasted and felt under his fingers . . . that addicting, sweet laugh.

“No, you stop this. I want you to listen carefully, Steve. I am sick of your dirty games and secrets. I can make life hell for him or great for you. Take your pick. But let me assure you, no one’s going to miss a gay clerk from Brooklyn. No one missed his brother, and no one will miss him.” Sharon’s tone had hardened, reminiscent of her father in a business deal.

Blood pumped through Steve’s ears; Sharon was threatening Bucky’s life . . . Steve’s bright light would be dimmed forever. “Sharon . . . please . . . stop.”

“Ready to negotiate, darling?” She asked coldly.

Hands gripping the wheel tighter, Steve swallowed and ground out, “what do you want?”

“I want you to be precisely what everyone thinks you are: the good on-the-rise business star. I want a ring. You will see your little men privately in a designated room where you can be discrete. But, you will no longer see this freak you’ve grown so attached to. One night stands, only. No ties. Or, you will never even be able to attend a funeral for the man. And I assure it, it will be closed casket like his brother’s.” Sharon paused. “Those are my terms. Negotiate or accept.”

“If I do this,” Steve took a shuddering breath, “you leave James alone. You leave the club alone.”

“As long as you continue to go by our agreement, yes. I will forget that sordid little freak show ever existed and the ring leader will be forgotten, too. Before you decide, turn your car around and go to a hotel . . . a nice one. Watch the news and think carefully. They have some lovely shots of the stretchers being removed. One of them might not make it through the night, they said.” Her voice sounded as calm as ever.

Steve’s eyes burned with tears; he ended the call but did as Sharon had asked, he immediately turned the car around.

“Fuck, Steve. We can report her. I heard everything. She as much as admitted . . .”

Shaking his head, Steve moaned, “no, Sam. She never admitted to anything . . . hinted but never admitted to anything. She’s smart.” Tears fell from Steve’s eyes; he’d just lost the one spark of happiness in his life.

“His brother?” Sam asked softly.

“KIlled in a park. Gay bashing,” Steve said numbly; he pulled into a five-star hotel’s parking lot and parked the car. After a few moments, the blond let out a shaky breath followed by a loud, painful sob.

Sam wrapped an arm around him and shook his head. “Hey, let me work with some legal folks. There’s gotta be something I can do? This is blackmail, Steve.”

If Steve heard his friend, he didn’t acknowledge it. He continued to cry; body-wracking sobs ripped through him violently. _How had it come to this?_

Slipping out of the car, Sam came around to the driver’s side and pulled Steve from the vehicle. He tugged the larger man into the hotel, glared at the front desk clerk, and walked towards the elevator, the clerk instantly running after with a key, recognizing the grieving blond. Sam pushed Steve onto the bed and left to arrange everything, leaving his friend to try to piece his breaking world together again.

**************

Stomping through the hospital, Jack flanking his side, Brock spotted Natasha in the waiting room. “Where is he? What the fuck happened?!”

The charge nurse looked up, frowning. “Excuse me, sir, may I help you?”

Whirling around, Brock faced the nurse and asked, “James Barnes. What’s his condition?”

“Stable and in room 235,” she responded. “He can have visitors if they sign the registration. He has police protection at the moment.”

Brock quickly signed the required paper and, without saying another word to Natasha, the burly brunet hurried to Bucky’s room, Jack quietly following him.

Nodding to the policeman stationed outside the room, Brock gently pushed open the door. His heart nearly broke at the sight of his friend lying in a hospital bed. Bucky’s left shoulder was wrapped with a bandage holding it tight to his chest, his left hand wrapped heavily in thick gauze and bandages, the fingers swollen and purple. Bruises spotted the brunet’s cheeks, dark purple rings under and around each eye, denoting the broken nose. But perhaps even more horrifying was the diaper the man wore, his blanket pushed off so the nurse could check his catheter. She turned and frowned, reaching for the sheet, but Bucky rasped, “leave it. He’s my brother.”

She nodded and finished what she was doing, writing down information, then turned to Brock. “Mr. Barnes?”

“Rumlow,” Bucky whispered. “Different parents.”

Blinking in confusion, the nurse frowned towards her patient then turned back to Brock.

Brock looked back at the nurse, “I’m listed as his next of kin.”

“Ah, you must be Brock,” she said with a nod, glancing at Jack in the doorway. “You want the nice picture or the dirty one?”

“I want the truth,” Brock said firmly, eyes flickering to Bucky and then back towards the nurse.

She nodded and looked at her chart, “eight bones in the left hand broken, dislocated left shoulder, possible broken left collarbone and upper arm, broken nose, torn esophagus, two broken teeth, multiple bruises and lacerations, and sodomized.” She looked up. “He’ll need to heal for several days before we can let him _go_ on his own, if you get my meaning?”

“Sodo - -” Brock looked to Bucky, eyes softening with sympathy and pain. He looked back to the woman and nodded once, “of course. He needs to heal.”

She nodded. “Precisely. Lucky his friends were there to get him into a panic room.”

“Do you know if the perpetrator is caught?” Brock asked, having not seen the news; he’d come racing to the hospital from work as soon as he was called.

“Three out of four suspects were taken in, yes. They’re looking for the other one. Apparently, according to our victims and the one witness, all four wore masks.” The nurse sighed. “Would you and your friend like to come in and sit with him? He’s coherent, but he’s under close monitoring . . . we’re waiting for toxicology screens to come back.”

Nodding, Brock moved to sit next to Bucky; Jack pulled up a chair beside his friend and watched Bucky intently, as if cataloging all the injuries.

Bucky didn’t smile, barely moved; he did sigh. “Hey,” he rasped.

“Hey, Kiddo,” Brock said softly.

“So, you heard the club was attacked?” The injured man sighed and whimpered softly.

“The hospital called me,” Brock shook his head, “We were at work . . . all I heard was that you were attacked and in the hospital.”

“Thank God there were only three of us there,” Bucky rasped. He moved his eyes painfully to fall on Brock. “Steve and Tony left a while before, so they weren’t caught up in it, and Pietro never showed, thank God.”

“Bucky, worry about resting and healing,” Brock said gently, tentatively he ran his fingers through Bucky’s hair.

Frowning, Bucky said, “Clint’s in surgery, Brock. They shoved his aid deep into his ear. He’s probably gonna be permanently deaf on that side, not even a new aid will help. Tasha’s waiting to hear how he is so she can tell me.” Whimpering again, Bucky sighed, “if Wade hadn’t been there, I think I’d have been killed, and so would have Clint. Those guys had it out for me.”

“So, It wasn’t a random attack on the club? It was an attack on you?” Jack asked.

“No, I think it was directed at me.” Bucky grimaced, looking miserable. “When they came in, they said _‘there he is,’_ then they started referencing some of my personal kinks. They said _‘we weren’t supposed to kill him’_ before I passed out.” Bucky looked at Brock. “I’m not stupid. Those guys were hired to go after me or mistakened me for someone else. Which do _you_ think?”

Sighing, Brock shook his head, “Bucky . . . you’re in a relationship with a very powerful, closeted man.”

“Yeah, I got that already,” Bucky sighed. “I had a very strong feeling it was tied to Steve, but I don’t think _he’s_ the one responsible.”

“No,” Jack said, looking at Bucky and then Brock, flicking his eyes back to the smaller brunet, he continued, “I highly doubt Steve would hire someone to attack you . . . if he wanted to hurt you he’d have done it himself. He’d had plenty of opportunity.”

“Exactly. He had me in ‘space. It’s why I couldn’t fight back. I let him go instead of asking him to stay and look after me.” Bucky sighed and whimpered. “I shoulda asked him to stay. I told him I was okay. He’d never been with someone in subspace before, didn’t know.”

“Did he say anything? Were there problems with his personal life?” Brock asked.

“Yeah, he was going to break up with his girlfriend,” Bucky sighed. “You know, the daughter of the guy in charge of Shield Inc.? Goddaughter to Senator Pierce? That girlfriend.”

Shaking his head, Brock ran his fingers through his hair, “she ordered the hit on you. No one else would make sense.”

“But why try to kill me? She could’ve done lots of other things to get a rich, powerful boyfriend. Hell, one of the royal princes of Great Britain’s still free.” Bucky let the fingers of his right hand stroke over a discrete button, sending a shot of morphine from his IV pump into his bloodstream.

“You and Steve made it a game for her,” Brock answered honestly.

“That’s sick, Brock,” Bucky complained.

“You’re right, kid, it _is_ sick.” Brock sighed and brushed a stray lock of hair away from Bucky’s forehead with a caring, gentle hand.

“I’ll clear this with Steve when he comes,” Bucky sighed, eyes closing. “I’ll let him know I don’t blame him for his nutcase girlfriend.”

Sighing softly, Brock nodded, “get some rest, kid.”

“Hey, Brock? I didn’t get to thank Wade. Can you do that for me?” Bucky’s eyes opened partially. “You can’t miss him. Red and black leather. Should be in the waiting room with Tasha.”

“Sure thing,” Brock smiled gently, “I’ll let him know.”

Smiling softly at last, Bucky closed his eyes and drifted off on a morphine-induced cloud.

**************

Two weeks had passed, and he’d never shown. Bucky slowly folded the last garment away into his overnight bag, thankful to be getting released, but miserable all the same. Steve hadn’t been able to come . . . and that hurt.

“Ready to go, kid?” Brock asked from the doorway, jangling his keys.

Looking up, left arm in a cast and strapped tightly to his body: it turned out after the swelling went down that Bucky had a broken collarbone after all, though his upper arm had only been badly sprained. His wrist and hand, too, were in a cast from the crushing breaks to his hand bones. A strip of plaster held the bridge of his nose in place. Sighing, Bucky snapped the clip on his bag, using his less dominant right hand and nodded. “Ready, Brock.” At least he was long out of the diaper, his rectum having mainly healed within the first week. The lean brunet scooped up his donut pillow.

Walking over to the bed, Brock grabbed the overnight bag and nodded. The older brunet hadn’t said a word about Steve, giving his friend time to grieve and accept the awful outcome of the relationship. Now was not the time for _‘I told you so’s.‘_

Letting Brock take the bag, Bucky offered his roommate and friend a gentle smile, his eyes stormy with his hurt and fear. “So, we going to our apartment or am I doing as the doctor said and checking into a safe hotel somewhere until they find the fourth asshole?”

“We’re staying at Jack’s,” Brock said, “there are enough bedrooms, and it’s a few towns over. So, you’ll be safe.”

“And his mother adores you like the son she never had,” Bucky joked.

“Ha!” Brock snorted, “Don’t let Jackie hear you say that.”

“Heck, Jack claims she’s akin to the virgin birth,” Bucky continued the long-familiar joke, “so . . . unless he’s the antiChrist . . .”

Letting out a bark of laughter, Brock shook his head; they stepped out into the bitter November cold.

“Damn, I missed Halloween,” Bucky mourned. He followed Brock to the car. “Tasha said they were going to throw the biggest bash this Halloween, despite the attack. She said Clint’s home and recuperating. He lost that side, like I thought.”

Unlocking the car, Brock set Bucky’s things in the backseat before opening Bucky’s door and then sliding into the driver’s seat.

“You know, you’d like Clint, Brock, if you gave him a chance.” Bucky placed the donut pillow down on the seat then slid onto it as he smiled softly. “He head-butted one guy’s crotch and bit another . . . nearly through I understand.” Bucky waited since he didn’t dare adjust the belt over himself. “Your kinda fighter.”

Helping Bucky with his seatbelt, Brock offered his friend a kind smile, “Ya know what? Jackie’s been buggin’ me about seeing this damn club you always talk about.”

“I knew Jack would be interested. Brock, you don’t have to be a dom or a sub to enjoy dinner as my guest.” Bucky offered his sweet smile. “Just to see things, strictly no play. It’s even got a spa.”

“Well, I just so happened to promise Jack that I’d check it out with him,” Brock turned on the car and the heater nearly on full-blast.

“You do know that there are lady members, too, Brock,” Bucky teased lightly. “So you don’t have to go as a date with Jack unless you really wanna. I think you’d like Maria . . . she’s tough as nails and takes no sass.”

Pulling out of the space, Brock cracked a smile, “tryin’ to set me up, Barnes? Haven’t done that since college.”

“Yeah, I am. And threesomes are acceptable, if you still wanna date Jack,” this time he really was teasing, tough anything pretty much went in the club if the parties consented.

“In the waiting room, that Wade guy mentioned something about a military party? Coming up next week?” Brock wanted to keep Bucky talking, mind off all the horrors in his life.

“Yeah,” Bucky sighed. “Tahsa was setting it up for guys like me. I love uniform.” He looked out the windshield, eyes sad once more. “First time in two years she was going to give it a go.”

Brock sighed, knowing he’d said something wrong, “he still hasn’t called or nothin’, yet?”

“No,” Bucky didn’t even pretend to misunderstand. He and Brock knew each other too well. “Haven’t heard from him. I hope he’s okay. No telling what the cat might have done to him after she let her rats out on me.”

“Jackie’s been watchin’ his work building. Goes to work everyday; nine to five. Then goes home. Nothin’ else,” Brock reported.

“But he works late hours for his job? It’s required for a COO to be able to work late, Brock,” Bucky looked worried.

Brock shrugged, “just tellin’ ya what Jack’s seen. Guy leaves everyday at five, almost on the dot.”

“She really whipped him,” Bucky sighed, looking sad. “He won’t be happy like that. It’ll blow up in her face sooner or later. Especially if she’s put so harsh a restriction on him. Steve’s not a sub.”

A loud clap of thunder, followed by a flash of lightning, shook the car’s windows.

Bucky lifted his right hand to touch the chilled window, looking out at the storm. “Just cats and dogs,” he said softly.

Sighing, Brock shook his head.

“I wonder,” Bucky said still softly, “if the threat was from her guys, too.”

“What threat?” Brock asked, eyes flickering to look at Bucky.

Bucky ripped his eyes from the coming storm and turned to Brock, frowning. “I guess I never got to tell you. The night before, on the anniversary? I got a call threatening that if I didn’t stop corrupting men, I’d wind up like George. Then, within twenty-four hours, I nearly did. Steve took me to file the report with the cops. I still have the copy in my coat, I think.” He wasn’t wearing the heavy coat because it would shift his arm and shoulder. Instead, he’d borrowed a lighter fall jacket from Brock.

They pulled up in front of Jack’s house; sleet fell from the heavy, grey clouds.

“Here comes Jack with an umbrella. I love that guy as much as I love you, Brock,” Bucky said happily, sighing.

Brock chuckled good-heartedly and stepped out of the vehicle, grabbing the smaller brunet’s bag and opening his roommate’s door. Jack hurried over to help Bucky out of the car, holding the umbrella out so that none of the icy sleet would touch the injured man. “Hey, kid! How ya feeling?” Jack asked, a sweet smile on his lips.

“Better now that I got both of my guys,” Bucky purred for Jack, eyes haunted and fearful but manner welcoming. “And glad to be able to relieve myself without a lot of blood and pain.” He shuddered.

Jack and Brock grimaced in sympathy, but it was Jack who spoke, “Mama’s makin’ some of her famous _Braciole_. Come on inside and let’s get warm.”

“I’m in heaven. I was in hell and, now I’m in heaven,” Bucky sighed and slowly made his way up the sleet covered steps. He moved with barely any pain, but the brunet didn’t want to slip and re-injure himself.

Inside the warm, cozy home; the savory herbal smell of the Italian dish wafted throughout the space. Sounds of pots and pans clanging together could be heard from the kitchen, and then the noises stopped and a tall woman with her brown hair pulled up in a braid walked out, wiping her hands on her apron, beaming at the men.

“Mama Rollins,” Bucky walked over to hug her one-armed, careful of his strapped left side. He kissed her soundly on the cheeks.

“James!” The woman smiled happily and returned the embrace, mindful of the younger man’s injuries; a slight Italian accent lingered in her tone, “it is good to see you are well! You gave me a fright, young man. Jackie said you were attacked? I hope they caught the bastards, yes?”

 _“Come è la mia donna preferita in tutto il mondo, l'amore della mia vita?”_ he purred to her in Italian. _How is my favorite woman in the world, the love of my life?_

 _“Sei troppo gentile con me, James. Ma sto bene,”_ she answered with a sweet smile, one similar to her son’s. _You are too kind to me, James. But I am well._ “Why is it that James speaks your mother’s language but you refuse, Jackie?” She seemed to accept Bucky’s avoidance of her question.

“Because, Mama, no one told him that Italian is the language of love,” Bucky leaned into her a bit, smiling, his nose twitching painfully at the smells, but he didn’t care. He loved the smell of Italian food.

“Stop pestering him, Mama,” Jackie groaned with a playful smirk, “let the man breathe for a moment!”

Softly, Bucky said, “they caught three of the four so far, Mama.” He kissed her cheek again and moved away from the welcoming woman. “I get to live here for awhile? I am certainly in heaven!”

“Ah, well you are always welcome in our home, James. So much better than that leaky apartment you and Brock choose to inhabit, yes?” She wiped her hands again and laughed gently.

Laughing, Bucky asked, “why does everyone think it leaks? I have it in great repair.” He placed the donut shaped pillow on a chair and eased onto it.

“Dinner will be ready in less than an hour,” the woman said, “I’ll start some coffee, yes? It’s raining cats and dogs, as you Americans say.”

At the expression, Bucky sighed, smile falling away as he looked towards the window. “Only cats and dogs,” he said sadly.


	11. Cats and Dogs

Three weeks since he’d last seen the love of his life - - Steve stood in front of a mirror, dressed in a sleek, grey tuxedo. His blue eyes dull and sad, he had hardly smiled since the light in his life had been violently snuffed and removed from his grasp. Steve knew he had to keep his distance from the lively brunet; he couldn’t risk Bucky any more than he already had . . . no matter how much it pained him to do so . . . he couldn’t see Bucky anymore.

“Are you ready, darling?” Sharon asked, her voice neutral. She wore a pink dress with opal earbobs and pink gemstones on her manicured nails.

Sighing, Steve nodded and turned away from the mirror, smoothing down his tie, “yeah . . . let’s get this show on the road,” his tone was flat, emotionless . . . broken.

Seemingly the woman didn’t mind his affect because she led him to the waiting car and remained quiet the entire ride to the party. Finally, just before their doors were opened, she said, “so, do we have special plans tonight, darling?”

“Whatever you want, _dear_ ,” Steve stated, venom and contempt leaking into his voice.

“You brought the ring?” She quirked an eyebrow. “I want this done right.”

Pulling out a small, velvet box, Steve held it up for Sharon to see, “wouldn’t dream of forgetting it.”

“Let me see it, darling,” she smiled at him.

Sighing, Steve opened the box, revealing a sparkling silver ring with a large-cut diamond in the center.

“Beautiful. Stunning, Steve,” she smiled with approval. “After this is done, you may invite your boys over, you know. I can find you a very discreet escort service. I'll have the suite in the back set up for your private use.”

Steve clenched his jaw, fist curling to tighten around the fabric of his trousers. He felt so powerless . . . so out of control. He couldn’t do _anything_ to stop this from happening. If he backed out or broke the rules of their agreement, Bucky would be killed.

The doors swung open and valets helped the couple from the car. Sharon waited, smiling beautifully, for Steve to escort her.

Forcing a smile on his face, Steve hooked his arm through her’s and began to guide his girlfriend into the large, public party.

As they strolled in, a shorter, black-haired man with a goatee walked over, looking like he was half lost in thought. “Rogers, isn’t it?” he asked in a friendly enough tone.

Letting go of Sharon, Steve nodded and offered his hand, “Yes . . . it’s nice to meet you, Mr. Stark.”

Nodding, Tony smiled, glancing over Sharon briefly before looking back at the tall blond man. “We should get together sometime? Maybe do shop, talk lunch, you know?”

Steve nodded and dropped his hand, “yes, of course. I’d like that.” The blond never introduced Sharon, hardly even looked over at her.

“You know, my R&D department has been cooking up a few fun numbers. Maybe we could incorporate something?” Tony added, watching Steve almost absent-mindedly but ignoring Sharon completely. So much for the legendary Stark charm.

“Sounds like a great idea, I look forward to it,” Steve smiled.

Nodding, the billionaire turned to move off and stopped. “Oh, Rogers, how’s your . . . friend? The one that got hurt at a nightclub?”

Stiffening immediately, Steve’s eyes flickered over to Sharon and then back to Tony. _How does Stark know about Bucky?_ Swallowing, appearing very nervous and almost scared, the blond man said after he cleared his throat, “I . . . uh - - I’m not sure I understand, Mr. Stark.”

Tony lifted his eyebrows. “Well, I thought maybe since you helped him report a very nasty threat to the police, that once that threat seemed to have been carried out, you would have been by his side, as friends are . . .” Shaking his head, eyes narrowing, Tony added, “of course if you’ve been busy - -”

Steve’s eyes fell and his hands clenched and unclenched.

“Oh, Mr. Stark, please. You give Steve far too much credit. The poor man he helped with the police was a one time thing. He was playing good Samaritan, you know,” Sharon smoothly intervened, though Tony shot her a bored look.

Licking his lips, Steve nodded but didn’t dare lift his head, “yes, we hadn’t met before that. I was unaware he was attacked.”

Tony’s eyebrows lifted and somehow his look relayed that he knew far more than many people gave him credit for. “Well, it must be truly important that,” he said, stubbornly sticking to his own version of events it seemed. “And what a waste . . . with such strong hands to protect someone.” Tony shrugged. “Ta,” and he breezed off.

“That was a very . . . odd . . . encounter.” Sharon frowned. “But I hear he’s practically insane.”

Feeling the familiar sting of guilt and shame, Steve simply nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

As the evening wore on, an hour then two passing, many people approached the power couple. Sharon played the good, happy girlfriend every time, smiling and clinging. Finally, a small disturbance seemed to ripple across the crowd and people began turning to look, whispering low, in the general direction of the main door.

A man, lean and tall, walked in, dressed in a World War II enlisted uniform complete with a Sergeant’s insignia. He seemed to have only one arm and his jacket sleeve had been pinned up to keep it from flopping around. The appearance of such a young man dressed in such a spanking new relic pretty much brought the party to a stand still. He walked carefully, but with self-assurance and grace, as if he was born to wear that uniform.

“This is supposed to be our engagement. Who is he, and who invited him to steal our spotlight?” Sharon hissed. “He looks like he’s just stepped out of time, complete with disgusting war injuries.”

Steve’s eyes widened at the sight of his lover . . . his light . . . his Bucky, striding confidently through the party. The blond’s heart pounded heavily in his chest and he immediately stepped away from Sharon’s side. “I’ll go talk to him, okay?”

“Steve,” she hissed. “What the hell?” The woman offered a smile to those around them.

“I’ll fix it, alright?” Steve snapped back, voice low and determined, not leaving much room for argument.

Narrowing her eyes, she breathed, “that’s him, isn’t it? The . . . get rid of him . . . forever, or someone else will.”

Steve didn’t look at the blond woman again; he pushed through the large crowd until he stood right in front of Bucky. “James . . . you - - you _can’t_ be here!” Steve warned in a low voice, leaning in closer to the brunet, trying to keep his eyes from trailing down his lover’s body . . . he looked so good in that uniform.

After three weeks of healing, Bucky’s bruised face, especially around his eyes and nose, held yellow and green in the purpling bruises. His aching arm remained strapped to his chest, under his jacket. He ached everywhere and felt half sick to his stomach, but he had to come give Steve that choice the other man didn’t believe he had. He had to tell him about Tony’s offer. “Heya, Cap,” he said softly.

Swallowing, trying not to focus on the bruises on Bucky’s face or the way his voice brought a swell of happiness mixed with guilt in his chest, Steve shook his head and placed a gentle hand on the brunet’s back, guiding the smaller man into a more private area of the party, a small alcove.

Letting Steve guide him, relishing the touch of his lover, Bucky offered his sweet smile up to Steve. “I had to come . . .” he began.

Shaking his head wildly, Steve hissed, “you can’t be here! God, Bucky . . .” The blond man looked terrified, eyes darting around the space.

“But, I had to. I wanted to talk to you sooner, but I was kinda laid up.” Bucky offered his smile again, eyes hungrily studying his erstwhile lover.

Turning pained eyes back to look at the brunet, Steve’s eyes lingered on the bruises and the missing arm. “God . . . Bucky - - I’m . . . I’m so sorry!”

Bucky shrugged his free shoulder and shook his head lightly. “They caught three of them, Steve. They’ll catch the other one, too.”

Steve shook his head and looked back out at the main area, Sharon watching the two of them intently, arms crossed over her chest. Swallowing, Steve’s eyes fell.

“Look, Steve . . .” Bucky reached out his right hand to touch Steve’s sleeve.

Stepping back, Steve shook his head, “no, James. We - - we can’t do this anymore.”

The brunet furrowed his brows. “But we can . . . I found a way . . .”

“There _is_ no way!” Steve snarled, eyes pained but body stiff and coiled tight, “don’t you see? There is no way this would ever work out!”

Shaking his head, Bucky said, “give me a chance, Steve. I can . . .”

Taking a deep breath, Steve looked back up at Bucky, making a decision . . . a decision that would ruin him and any chance of happiness; the blond said firmly, “I never loved you, James. You were a good, easy fuck. Always so eager to please and do whatever I wanted. But it’s over now.”

Bucky’s olive-toned skin paled and his steel-blue eyes widened. “You don’t mean that, Steve. I love you . . .”

“I don’t love you!” Steve leered, fists clenching by his side, “I never did! Get a grip, James, you and I come from different worlds! All you ever were to me was a great piece of ass.” Steve fought to keep his tone even, despite the breaking of his heart, the words he spoke physically paining him to say.

“My nose,” Bucky said softly, tone falling into a calm, neutral tone. “My shoulder. My hand.” He continued to look up at Steve. “Three ribs. Two teeth. My rectum. My pride.”

Steve closed his eyes and turned his head, not wanting to hear any more. Wishing he could just die and not live with the pain and guilt of what he was doing.

Bucky continued in the same neutral tone. “Those goons your girlfriend hired broke all that. And, I was okay with that. I would live, I would recover. But, you, Steve?” Bucky shook his head. “You broke my heart. And that? That’s irreplaceable.” He turned smartly, looking every inch the military man, having only his costume, his disguise in a world of hate, to fall back on. Bucky strode from the room.

Steve leaned against the wall, whole body sagging and eyes burning with unshed tears. He had to do it. He had to keep Bucky safe.

Sam looked at Steve and shook his head, frowning, eyes troubled. He may not have said anything to stop his friend’s destructive behavior, but he had heard every word. Turning, the assistant hurried from the room after the retreating wounded brunet.

“Bucky!” Sam called just as they stepped outside into the bitter, cold night, their breaths puffing out in white clouds.

The brunet stopped and turned his head, face streaked with tears, eyes large and awash.

Running over to stand in front of the distraught man, Sam shook his head, “he didn’t mean any of that!”

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky said softly. “I was awake for what those men said. I figured it out.” He began to turn back towards the road.

“Wait!” Sam said, fighting the urge to grab the obviously injured man.

Once more Bucky stopped, right hand moving up to cup the bottom of his sling through the jacket.

“She threatened your life. Steve was rushing to get to you when she called. She’s using your life to hold over him. I know that doesn’t excuse what he said . . . but he loves you,” Sam explained, body starting to shiver from the cold.

“Yeah, I get that, too,” Bucky sighed, frowning. “He’s trying to play the hero and save me from his evil girlfriend so she can oppress him the rest of his life. I get all that, always have.”

“What don’t you get?” Sam asked softly, eyes intently searching the brunet’s face, studying it.

“Nothing. I get all of it. Steve wouldn’t even listen when I offered him another chance, wouldn’t listen to my offer. So, I get it. Steve made his choice. It’s the worst one he’ll probably ever make, but _‘if you love him, you gotta set him free,’_ right?” Bucky turned again towards the road.

Sam watched the man walk down the steps, hugging his body to try and keep some warmth, “he was happiest when he was with you!” The assistant shouted, teeth clattering lightly.

Bucky stopped and let his head hang down. Slowly, he turned and reached into his uniform jacket pocket. Pulling out a sheet of paper, folded, he held it out to Sam. “Give this to him when he’s not near that woman, okay? Even if I can’t have him, maybe I can help him one last time.”

Taking the paper, Sam nodded and stuck the sheet in his jacket pocket.

“Take care, Sam, right? Take care of yourself.” Bucky offered his sweet smile to the man then began walking down the street. He stopped not even half a block away, next to a stretch SUV. A chauffeur opened the door and assisted the brunet to sit in the back, fastening the seat-belt for the wounded man. The servant then stood and shut the door and hurried to the front.

“You too,” Sam whispered into the cold air as he watched the kind, sweet man drive away.

***************

Brock frowned slightly as Bucky slipped into the SUV where he and Jack had been waiting. The bigger brunet noticed the tears trailing down his roommate’s face right away.

“Didn’t go well?” Brock asked softly.

As the chauffeur buckled the injured man in then shut the door, Bucky remained silent. Once they were moving, however, he broke down into quiet sobs, shaking his head. “He . . . wouldn’t . . . let . . . me . . . tell . . . him.”

Wrapping an arm around Bucky’s shoulders, being careful of the injuries, Brock pulled his friend in close and kissed the top of his head, not saying anything. Brock had tried to tell Bucky that this would be a bad idea . . . that if Steve hadn’t called or shown his face already . . . obviously he didn’t want to see Bucky.

The lean brunet buried his bruised face in his friend’s jacket, lifting his right hand to clutch the thick material tightly. “He’s . . . hurting . . . so . . . much . . . and . . . he . . . won’t . . . let . . . me . . . help.”

“He’s scared, Bucky,” Jack said, eyes flicking to meet Brock’s before moving back over to look at the crying brunet, “fear does a lot of weird shit to people.”

Nodding, leaving his head leaning into Brock’s shoulder, but turning his face to see his other friend, Bucky let out a small whimper. “I love him,” he breathed before his breath hitched on another sob.

“I know, kid . . . but maybe . . . maybe it’s time you let this one go,” Brock offered gently, fingers running through Bucky’s hair. “He made his choice. I guess now it’s time for you to make yours.”

The car slowed to a stop before Bucky could answer Brock’s challenge, soft as it had been. Sitting straight, the injured brunet wiped at his tears with his free hand, trying to make himself presentable once more. “Can’t have a soldier crying,” he breathed softly.

“You sure you wanna do this?” Jack asked, placing a hand on Bucky’s knee, “We can go back to my place . . . we can do this another night.”

Smiling at Jack, Bucky shook his head. “No, I want my friends to know I’m okay. They’ve been great with their flowers and cards, and I want them to see that we, as a group, can get through this latest hate attack.” Bucky sighed, “can you unfasten my belt?” he chuckled softly, the sound strained.

Brock let his arm slip from Bucky’s shoulders and clicked the button, releasing the seatbelt.

Teasing lightly, Bucky said, “if you weren’t here with Jack, I’d tell you that was the exact wrong belt.” Bucky smiled for them as the door opened and the servant helped him out with a sturdy hand.

Brock and Jack shared an amused look before following their friend out of the car and into the club they’d both heard so much about but never actually been to.

Smiling at the shadow guard, Bucky said, “This is Brock and Jack, my guests for the night.” After the three were cleared, and the guard welcomed Bucky back with an enthusiastic “you’ve come home!” The lean brunet lead his friends to the main dining room, where most of the patrons and staff had dressed in military uniforms from every era and every country, some even defunct. Bucky smiled as he selected a table in the back, but center, able to escape if he needed without too much attention, but still the center of said attention. Many of the patrons there called out welcomes and relief was evident for the recovery of the man who’d been the longest standing member of the dungeon.

Bucky smiled at his friends. “Have a seat. They’ll come to take your dinner orders and then we’ll bask in my popularity while others come to check in and meet my guests. You are in for pampering.” He eased onto a chair set with a discreet black donut pillow for his personal use.

**************

_“I know you are hurting, Captain, and I understand your fear and pain. I could never hate you for such things . . . they make you human. I thought of a way to help you, and if you are reading this, you didn’t let me tell you in person. I know you never wanted to mix business and pleasure, and I respect that. Well, by now, it is far from pleasure, so I am making your business my own, this once. I asked a close personal friend, and my boss, to look over your credentials and interview you for the COO job of his company. His just ditched and left my friend in the lurch. This man is gay but not out, and he will respect you. He already knows we’ve been lovers. You even saw him at home, though I dare say you didn’t recognize him. Please, give him a chance. Give yourself a chance. Even if you can’t escape from your woman friend, you can work where you’ll be happy. Love, forever, your Sergeant, James Barnes, Head of Research and Development, Stark Enterprises”_

Steve gasped, eyes blurring with tears as he read the words scrawled in Bucky’s handwriting. He looked back up at Sam, his mouth opening and then closing, unsure of what to say or do.

“I checked it out, and it’s true, Steve. Stark makes no secret about his inner cabinet, as he calls them. His COO hired out to Pierce, and your Bucky really is the head of R&D at Stark. Apparently, he’s been on sabbatical helping a friend who needed someone to run a small business, short staffed due to an injury to the owner.” Sam ran his hand through his hair.

Looking down at the letter again, Steve’s hands trembled and he shook his head, “what did I do, Sam? Oh my God . . . _what did I do?_ ”

“You let that crazy ass bitch get her claws in you during high school when she found you kissing her brother. She’s had you by the balls ever since,” Sam finally said what he really felt.

Pushing off the wall, where he’d been leaning, Steve folded the letter and slipped it into his breast pocket.

“If your Bucky’s not lying in his letter, Tony Stark's a member of your club, too,” Sam pointed out softly. “Means you’ll have a boss, if he hires you, that will not only understand your sexuality but your private kink. I doubt you’d lose much if you took that offer.”

Steve’s eyes scanned the crowd of the party and he focused on Tony, sipping champagne from a fluted glass. The CEO looked over and met Steve’s eyes. He raise the glass a bit then sipped again, never taking his dark eyes from the taller man.

Pushing through the crowds, Steve made his way over to the smaller man, “Mr. Stark . . . I - - I need your help.”

“Ah, so my offer of a lunch date didn’t help?” He smiled, lowering his glass and turning to the people around him. “I’m gone. Let’s do lunch sometime.” And the powerful billionaire stepped away from the hangers-on, right up to Steve. “My car’s outside if you wanna go after him . . . Captain.”

“Thank you,” Steve gave the man a smile before following Tony.

As Tony wound his way through the crowd, leading Steve and Sam, he nodded absently to people. “You do realize that you are on temporary blacklist at the club, right? For abandoning him before twenty-four hours was up?”

Steve sighed; he hadn’t gotten that far in the manual, nor yet had the second care-class . . . he’d had no idea that he wasn’t supposed to leave Bucky for a minimum of twenty-four hours after subspace. Had he known . . . had he stayed with Bucky . . . things would be so much different.

“In order to get back in, you need two vouchers, and neither can be him.” Tony nodded as his driver opened the door to the small Maserati, allowing Tony to take the wheel. “Now, if you’re serious, and you ditch the hellcat for good, I can help. I’ll be a voucher if he wants you back. But you’re going to need another one, and it’s going to have to be a long standing member with authority. I know just the guy.” Tony glanced over, “buckle up, we’re breaking laws tonight.” He slid his own belt on and started the engine with a roar. “This guy will want to know you read the manual front to back and will insist you are tested on the entire thing. Hope you’re willing to put in the school-work, because Tasha’s silent partner takes no shit from a dom who doesn’t care for his sub.”

“Who’s her silent partner? I thought she owned the club?” Steve asked, gripping the door handle as Tony took an exceptionally sharp right turn, blowing through a red light.

“She does, and he owns half but lets her run everything. And not many people know of his position, so it’s a bit on the hush hush.” Tony blew through at least three more red lights as he drove. At least he kept both hands on the wheel. “And he’s the toughest voucher you can ever get, because he’ll be the hardest on you . . . even harder than Tasha, who’s the one who blacklisted you.”

“If only I’d stayed,” Steve sighed, shaking his head.

“Can’t change that, Rogers. Can only move forward. You ready to put in the hard work? Ready to ditch the bitch and do the time?” Tony took another corner and pulled neatly into the parking spot furthest from the door, shadowed but not unprotected . . . a camera spotlighted the area so Tony was under full protective surveillance.

“I’ll do anything . . . I know he may not want me anymore, I couldn’t blame him after the things I said.” Steve shrugged softly, unclipping his seat-belt, “but he needs to know the truth. He deserves that much from me.”

“Right, then break up with her right now.” Tony sat back, unbuckling and pulling out a manicure set to start buffing his nails. He still had the car on so Steve’s door was locked tight.

“I will . . . I _tried_ . . . that’s what got Bucky almost killed,” Steve sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Yeah, she had four goons that bash gays for fun attack and practically kill Bucky bear and Barton. I know. I was at the dungeon that night and hid in the bathroom.” Tony lifted his eyes from his nails. “I called the cops before that panic button ever got hit. So, she said she’d have him killed? Well, that’s a direct threat. We can report her.”

Steve shook his head, “she’ll just get out of it . . . you know how ruthless her father is . . . we need to figure out something else . . . something that’ll keep her away.”

“Okay, so she gets out of the charges. But you’re gonna let her threaten your boy every time she gets her panties in a knot? Because that’s what she’ll do. You want your sub? Fight for him. That’s what you doms do, protect us subs.” Tony put away his kit and pulled out his phone. “You can borrow my phone if you want to. Break up with her or I don’t vouch for you, that was our deal.”

“Uh . . .” Sam spoke from the backseat, “I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” He pointed at the car speeding into the parking lot: Sharon’s car.

“Gotcha. So, you can do it in person. Better that way,” Tony nodded.

Steve took a deep breath and nodded; he watched as Sharon parked her car and stepped out of the vehicle, arms crossing in front of her chest.

Tony looked to Steve. “Go on. I’ll be your wing-man.” He made no move to get out of the car.

Getting out of the car, shutting the door softly behind him, Steve walked over to Sharon . . . his steps confident but his eyes wide with fear and uncertainty.

Tony whispered, “watch this action, Sammy boy,” and slid from the car as silent as a cat, walking up behind Steve, a few paces behind.

As he made it to the woman, Steve said, “it’s over, Sharon. We aren’t playing this game anymore.”

Lifting her hand, she shook her head. “Oh no it’s not. Invitations to the engagement party have already been cut. You have the ring.”

Steve pulled out the box and dropped it; it fell to the asphalt with a tumble, landing right next to Sharon’s feet. “Take your ring . . . take your invitations. But I’m not letting you have _me_ anymore.”

“You can’t do this. You work for my father. I can have you blacklisted from every financial company in the country,” she hissed. “And that little queer will regret you ever shoved your dick into him.”

“Oh, really? That’s how Shield Inc runs?” Tony sounded mildly bored. “Well, guess I won’t be signing the final merger than. I don’t like blackmail or bullies. But, I do like my new Chief of Operations, so tell _your daddy_ to shove that ring on his company’s bankruptcy charts.” Tony held out his arm for Steve, “and let me and my date alone. We’re celebrating a brand new merger.” Tony looked up at Steve. “Coming, Steve?”

Steve offered Tony a genuine smile and hooked his arm through the billionaire’s, patting it gently. “Of course.”

“Coming, Sammy? I’m allowed guests, being a long-time member of spectacular standing here. Only people with a year long membership of impeccable reputation get guests.” He smiled over his shoulder, watching Sharon stand there, stunned and uncertain how to fix this.

Sam took Tony’s other arm, smirking and trying to hold back a chuckle at the look on Sharon’s face.

The shorter man led his two guests into the club and stopped before the shadow guard. “Hello, Wayne. These are my guests for the evening, and we need a private room to change into our uniforms.” Tony held up a hand, letting Sam’s arm drop. “And yeah, I’m dealing with his blacklisting so give me the night, will ya? There’s a love.” Tony grabbed Sam’s hand again and smiled at the man. “You know, you’re actually pretty cute . . .”

Sam blushed brightly and cleared his throat, ducking his head.

“I think I ought to introduce you to my secretary. He’ll adore your brown eyes.” Looking at Steve, Tony led the others down the hall, “my man Riley’s a sucker for big browns.”

“I - - I . . . well . . .” Sam stammered, looking at Steve and then back at Tony.

“Not gay? Are you sure, Sammy?” Tony questioned.

“I may have . . .” Sam started.

“Good,” Tony cut off the explanation. “Then let Riley convince you that you really are. He’s an awesome dom . . . really take you in hand.” They walked into a room with the _Eye of Horus_ as a symbol on the door. “Now, there should be uniforms in this place. Tasha’s always got spares for any theme night. Let the shadow guard know your era, country, and sizes and if you’ve got a certain rank in mind.” Tony walked to the closet and began stripping.

Both Sam and Steve did as instructed.

“Oh, and by the way? That other voucher you’re looking to get? The one that will be the only thing to trump Tasha’s blacklist? Yeah, you’re looking to convince _Clint_ you can care for Bucky properly. Good luck.” Tony disappeared into the bathroom. “Now where is my mascara.”

“Clint?” Steve asked, incredulously, “He’s the co-owner?”

“Yup,” Tony called. “Me, Tasha, and Bucky go back to college, but she picked up Clint after his own dom abused him in subspace.” Tony peeked out. “As silent partner, his is the only vote she’ll listen to aside from mine or Bucky’s, and Bucky’s can’t count in this case.” He went back into the bathroom, leaving his door open.

A knock at the door signaled the arrival of Steve and Sam’s costumes, and lucky for Steve, they had exactly what he’d asked for in his size. Both men made quick work of changing into their uniforms; the blond smoothed the front of his down, anxious to see his lover.

“Oh,” Tony stepped out of the bathroom dressed in a grunt’s desert cammies. “I have it on good authority that Bucky’s two best guys are here with him tonight. He’s been working for ages to get them to come and I think they did it just to show their support for him.” Tony beamed and walked out of the room. “Coming boys?”

***************

Smiling at yet another well-wisher, Bucky nodded and sipped his soda. With his meds alcohol was strictly off limits. He shifted slightly on his pillow, knowing he’d have to get up and move around very soon. He nodded as his friend walked away, blending once more into the crowd. “So, you guys having fun yet? Don’t tell me you didn’t like seeing Maria and Angie up there?”

“Oh, no . . . that was something else,” Brock smiled, laughing slightly. “Something quite special, kid.”

“Yeah? Maria swings and is single for the moment. Angie’s strict lesbian,” Bucky informed them, chuckling softly.

“Sergeant Barnes?” A smooth, velvety voice called out from behind Bucky.

At that beloved voice, Bucky froze. He straightened, lowering his glass to the table. Softly, he said “Captain?” Turning carefully, using his right hand to support himself, Bucky looked up, his stormy eyes fearful and uncertain.

Standing in his full Captain’s uniform from WWII, Steve had his hands crossed in front of him in a polite pose. His bright blue eyes looked down at Bucky with uncertainty and love.

Lifting his voice hesitantly, Bucky said, “Captain Rogers? Are you sure you’re cleared to be here.”

“Cleared for active duty, Sergeant Barnes,” Steve answered back, swallowing hard.

“And what about your commanding officer?” he asked, eyes searching, frightened and hopeful.

“Taken care of . . . I have a new commanding officer now,” Steve’s voice nearly broke but he cleared it.

“And that would be?” Bucky asked, breath held.

Tony, behind Steve, whispered, “he’s talking about Sharon, not me.”

“Got that, thanks,” Steve whispered back before looking down at Bucky again, “Well, you see, Sergeant Barnes . . . I don’t know if my new CO will want me. There isn’t a day that goes by that I’m not sorry for what I put him through, us through, and I want to spend the rest of my life making it up to him.”

Bucky bit his lip, weighing everything silently, still watching Steve, the man who’d tried to protect him by pushing him away and leaving him to fend for himself . . . after he’d been attacked.

Holding a hand up to prevent Tasha’s interfering, Tony whispered, “the boy was so eager to love his Bucky that he didn’t finish his manual. I set him straight. I’m vouching . . . for one.”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed as she watched the exchange between Steve and Bucky, looking back at the small sub, she said, “if he hurts him again . . . it’ll be _your_ ass on the line.”

From behind her, Clint softly said, “Let _me_ train him. He’ll never forget again once I’m done with him.”

The redhead looked at her sub, eyes softening instantly.

The stocky blond met her eyes. “They’re in love, Nat . . . if Bucky’s willing to give him another chance, I can vouch that I will _make_ him respect his sub.”

“Okay,” Tasha nodded, body uncoiling, “I’ll remove the blacklist if Bucky takes him back - -” She quirked a brow as her sub sharply cut her off.

“Oh, no, don’t do that,” Clint shook his head, hand going to touch his deafened ear. “Not until I’ve finished his training. Until then, guest only under full supervision. And I want Wade to help me.”

“That’s what I was going to say, Lucky,” Natasha smirked, petting her sub’s hair.

“We think so alike, mistress,” Clint softly whined, dropping to his knees and nuzzling her hip, only wincing slightly at the painful pull to his still healing ribs.

Taking a deep breath, the entire club had fallen silent to listen and watch so Bucky didn’t miss a word of Tasha's conversation with the two subs, the injured brunet slowly stood. He stood straight and saluted Steve. “Reporting for duty, Captain.”

Steve beamed, eyes instantly welling with tears, he didn’t care about all the people watching . . . everything around him faded away until he could only see Bucky. Taking a step closer, Steve tentatively raised a hand to cup his lover’s cheek. Leaning in closer, the blond breathed against Bucky’s lips, “ _I’m home._ ”

Bucky pressed his cheek into Steve’s hand, eyes closing as he turned his face to nuzzle at the strong fingers and palm. Softly, he said “I can safely say your are _not_ a sub, darlin’, just a dom without power.” He turned his eyes up to his lover, his love, with a chuckle and purred, “but you can _take_ that, Captain.”


End file.
